


Eldäriän

by sheesh1991



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Adventure, Alien Technology, Ancient Prophecy, Ancient Technology, Canon Characters - Freeform, Canon Setting, Canon Universe, Canon Universe - Future, Canon Universe - Past, Canon Universe - Present, Canonical Character Death, Character Development, Continuation, Continuation of Canon Story, Convergence of Timelines, Dragons, Dwarves, Elves, F/M, Fantasy, Fate & Destiny, Future, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magic, Minor Character Death, Near Future, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Past, Predestination, Prophecy, Romance, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, prehistory, scifi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheesh1991/pseuds/sheesh1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years have passed since Eragon and Saphira left Alagaësia. Their lives are just getting started, but evil has a way of finding its way back into their lives and mysteries of ages long forgotten by time resurface in this exciting story.  An ancient prophecy, an ancient ally, an unknown enemy, and a threat to the very existence of the universe. Eragon and his friends must take up arms once more to vanquish an unknown enemy of the past, the present and the future to save all of existence. Can Eragon bear the weight of such a universally large task upon his shoulders? Find out in this new story of fate, of romance, and of science in adventure. This is a continuation of the IC.  There will be heavy scifi elements in future chapters. 141 pages, 82,920 words and counting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start of Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By: Filip Lesiczka
> 
> This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.
> 
> This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Work on this chapter and story originally began on 2/29/12.**   
> **Chapter and story was originally published on FF on 3/26/12.**

* * *

Roran sighed as he placed the quill on his desk. He stood up from the chair and walked to the window of his private study. He rolled his shoulders, shifting the weight of the fur pelt that hung from the shoulders of his fine blue and red shirt down to his shoulder blades. He peered through the rain streaked glass and through the curtains of rain. The rain pounded and pattered against the pane of glass as sporadic gusts of wind pushed the rain in confused directions.

Roran was fed up with all of this rain, for it had been almost a week since this unrelenting cascade of water began. It was raining so hard that he could barely make out the stone roofing of Horst's large estate just below the cliff Roran's own estate sat atop of. He could just make out the faint shadows of other homes just beyond the fence line of Horst's estate. A single ball of orange light appeared out of the rain and quickly bobbed up and down in the direction of Horst's home, but quickly veered to the right and began heading up the cobblestone stepped path that lead up to Roran's estate.

Roran watched the bobbing orange light for a few moments until it disappeared from his view behind the wooden frame of the window. He stepped away from the window and walked towards the large single dark wooden door. He paused with his hand on the door handle, admiring the elaborate designs in the polished wood, and the various carvings depicting Roran's victorious battles during his time in the Varden. The carvings were confined within a large oval, split into three sections.

A single circle rested in the very center of the carvings, where the divisions would have intersected. In this circle were four gold figurines, two dragons, one elf and one human. The larger dragon stood behind the human, with its head just above the humans head. The curve of its neck formed part of the perimeter of the circle it stood within. The smaller dragon stood behind the elf, with its head pointed slightly upwards towards the larger dragon. The elf and the human were both facing one another, but turned slightly outwards so that the features of their faces could be recognizable. They held each others hands and both were smiling.

Roran had seen these golden figurines many hundreds of times, but it always fascinated him how lifelike the dwarves had made the figurines appear. Both dragons and the human and elf were hand forged and crafted from a single piece of solid gold by one of Orik's most skilled blacksmiths. He marveled at the shear detail the dwarf had put into this artwork. It was a gift Roran had received from Orik when the dwarf king visited Palancar Valley to check on the progress that had been made on the new village that Roran had established, which he named Oestaerya. Roran had wanted to give the village the name Carvahall, but upon Horst's and Katrina's insistence, as well as the majority of the villagers, Roran decided to invent a new name for it. That was four and a half years ago, when the village was given a new name, and when Orik visited.

Roran broke his train of thought, opened the door and left his study. He turned and closed the door. This side of door was identical in design and carvings to the side on the inside of his study. Every detail was precisely accurate to match and mirror the opposite side of the door; even the golden figurines in the center of the door were identical to the one Roran had just finished admiring. His eyes quickly fell upon the gold human figurine before he turned and walked down the hallway towards the main section of his estate. His boots thumped softly on the hard wood floor of the hallway.

He sighed, and he thought about Eragon again, just as he had been for years now. It had been five years since he and Eragon had parted with one another on the banks of the Edda River; five years since the last he saw of Eragon and Saphira was the sail of the ship slowly growing smaller and smaller on the horizon before it finally dipped beneath the thin shimmering line of the horizon. Eragon had not contacted him at all since then. _I wonder how far they have traveled,_ Roran thought to himself. _I wonder if they have managed to find a place to settle down._

Roran descended two flights of stone stairs and emerged into a grand hallway which the front entrance led into. He walked across the elegantly woven rug that Nasuada had given to him before he left Ilirea, a rug that had been recovered from the rubble of one of the treasure rooms inside the citadel. _...I wonder if they're alright._ Walking across the length of the stone floor to the two doors of the entrance to his estate, he reached for the handle of the door on the right, opened it, and greeted his visitor.

It was Horst. He was out of breath and soaked to the bone, and perhaps shivering from the cold. The torch in his hand was burning weakly. His fur coat had water droplets clinging to every hair, making it look as if it were covered with thousands of little diamonds. And the look on his face told Roran that something had happened. "Horst," he said. "What brings you here on such a bleak afternoon?"

After a moment, Horst regained his breath and spoke in a rush, with a trace of excitement in his voice, "Roran, all this rain has caused part of the cliff face near the edge of the village to collapse." He wiped the water from his nose and his forehead as it dripped from his wet hair.

"Was anyone hurt?" Roran asked.

Horst shook his head, "No, but it has exposed something…unusual."

This caught Roran's attention, "Unusual, you say?"

"A good forty feet of rock has fallen away from the cliff," Horst said with a nod. "Also, about two stories up, there is an opening."

"A cave opening?"

"Nay… it's too precise to be a cave opening. It appears to be man made."

This peaked Roran's interest, as nothing intriguing as this had occurred in a very long while, "Is there any access to it?" Horst shook his head in response, "Very well. When and if this rain stops anytime soon, we'll go down to see what all the excitement is all about."

ͼͽ

Eragon thrust his head into the cold glacial water that cascaded down into a deep hole below the top of the two hundred foot rock face it fell from. He held his head in the waterfall for a few seconds before pulling back, throwing his head back so his wet hair fell on the back of his neck. Streams of the ice cold water ran down the groove of his back that his spine made, sending shivers through his body from head to toe. He spit some of the water that had dripped into his mouth, and grimaced when the silt in the water grinded between his teeth.

He walked back to where he had placed his tunic and a fine cloth towel on a large boulder just a few feet away from the bank of the glacial stream. He reached down and picked the towel off the boulder, tossed it onto his head and vigorously dried his hair. Once he was satisfied that his hair was dry, he put his tunic back on, and walked back down the game trail he had used to get there. He carefully made his way through the maze of dead branches that stuck out at him from the many alpine pine trees that grew there.

These alpine pines were similar to those of the pine trees he was familiar with from The Spine. The bark was similar to the pines of The Spine, but the branches had upwards of about twenty thin and flexible needles on each bud. These pines, which he called fir trees, grew only in the upper reaches of the ring of mountains that made up the basin in which he had decided to settle and build the next city of the Riders.

For almost two hours, Eragon made his way down the side of the mountain through the maze of fir trees. When he finally emerged from the trees below the alpine level, he stopped at the edge of a small drop-off, and beheld the sight before him. It was the inner basin of the ring of mountains in which he had settled, a beautiful sight that none in the land of Alagaësia may have never seen before and perhaps never see.

This ring of mountains that were just as tall as those of The Spine, perhaps much taller, mystified him and the elves. These mountains were nestled within a large expanse of forest. The nearest mountain chain was more than fifty miles away to the northeast. Why there was a perfect ring of mountains in the middle of a sea of trees, Eragon could not answer. The elves had measured the diameter of the ring of mountains, and found it to be about twelve miles from the top of one mountain, to the top of another mountain on the opposite side of the ring. The basin the mountains formed was much lower than the rest of the surrounding landscape, sinking nearly half a mile below the ground level outside the ring.

A single small rocky peak rose up from the flat expanse of the depression in the very center of the basin, rising about six hundred feet above the floor of the basin. It was on the top of that small rocky peak that Eragon had built his home, a massive stone castle which he had constructed from the very stone of that mountain. With the help of Saphira and the elves, as well as the eldunari, it took them almost a year of singing to mold and shape just the foundation of the structure. It took them longer than they had expected for they discovered that the rock that made up the mountain was rich in iron. Over the course of the next two and a half years, Eragon took to constructing his new home from the stone of the top of the mountain, which he had removed with magic. Saphira helped as well, moving the much larger boulders that Eragon could not move with magic himself.

By the time they had finished, the palace rivaled the stone structures of Dorú Areaba. It was not just his home, but Saphira's as well. The hallways and corridors were large enough for her and another dragon to walk comfortably side by side. The rooms were large enough for Saphira to spread her wings and the central courtyard was big enough for at least twenty dragons of Saphira's size to stand in.

Once his home was finished, Eragon helped Blödhgarm and the rest of the elves build their own homes directly below his own. Theirs were not as large as his castle, but were still large enough to house dragons within their walls. For the remaining year and a half Eragon helped with building their estates, and laying down walkways and paths between each of their homes and even his. After finishing that, a large path was constructed down the side of the mountain, leading from Eragon's estate down to the flat expanse of the basin floor below.

And today was the day when work on the first buildings of the new city of the Riders had begun. Eragon's eyes moved from the central peak to the winding path that led from the top of the mountain, then down to the end of the path. More would be added on to the main path as the city continued to be built and developed. Eragon could faintly see the foundations of two large buildings on either side of the path, right at the foot of the small peak.

He smiled and thought to himself, _They've been working nonstop for the last three years. Maybe I should have them rest for a week. They only just finished the path yesterday._

A roar echoed somewhere in the distance. Eragon looked up to his left to the top of the mountain next to the one he had just descended. Within a few moments of him looking up, a flash of blue shot from behind the peak of the mountain. He watched as the sparkle of blue suddenly turned and headed in his direction, slowly growing larger until Eragon could make out the distinct shape of Saphira. He smiled again and gently touched her mind with his, _You seem to be enjoying yourself today._

_Kaeshta tells that King Orik has just contacted us,_ was Saphira's response.

Kaeshta was the first hatchling of the dragon eggs that Eragon and Saphira recovered from the Vault of Souls. She had only hatched about two weeks earlier, when he and Blödhgarm were moving the eggs to the warmth of the large hearth in Eragon's huge lounge room. No sooner had Blödhgarm touched the small, bowl-sized purple egg did it start to wobble in his hands. It had come as a surprise not just to Blödhgarm, but to everyone, as they had not been expecting an egg to hatch so soon. When the small, mink-sized dragon finally emerged, Eragon urged Blödhgarm to make the bond as she had obviously chosen him to be her Rider. Thus, Blödhgarm became a Rider, although he hesitated at first. For a week afterwards, Saphira taught the little dragon how to touch minds and communicate through the use of images.

_She learns quickly, doesn't she?_ Eragon asked as Saphira circled twice overhead before descending to land. She back flapped three times to slow her descent, before she let herself drop the meager ten feet to the ground. Eragon had to bend his knees to steady himself as the ground shuddered violently beneath Saphira's weight. He had not noticed himself, but it was evident that Saphira had grown a great deal. For the last three years he carefully watched as her belly grew larger and larger, evident of the batch of precious eggs she was carrying.

Saphira extended her neck towards him and allowed him to rub the scales above her left eye, _Yes she does. She is a quick learner, but she is not growing as fast as we expected her to. She is just about the same size as she was when she hatched._

_Give her time,_ Eragon replied, _I remember it took you a long time to grow to the size of a house cat._

_But that is because you were trying to conceal me from Garrow, little one._

_True, I was,_ Eragon agreed as he looked back towards the central peak. _But I still provided you with as much food as we are providing to Kaeshta. Did I not?_

Saphira hummed in response, _That you did._

Eragon smiled and patted her on her cheekbone. _Well then, let's go see what Orik wants to talk about._ He walked over and hoisted himself into the saddle on her back. He placed the towel on the saddle and sat on top of it, then tied the top straps around his legs. He felt Saphira's muscles flex and ripple beneath his legs as she leaped forward off the edge of the rock face and unfurled her wings. She flapped twice and was soon high above the basin floor heading towards the central peak.

ͼͽ

It only took Saphira ten minutes to cross the flat, wooded and grassy expanse of the basin. They first stopped by the new construction sites. He made the elves gather around him and Saphira to offer them a week of rest. Although the elves appreciated his offer, none of them accepted it. They were all content with continuing with their work. "Very well," Eragon said, "but don't strain yourselves too much, promise me that."

Eragon nodded silently, and the elves dispersed, returning to whatever they had each been working on.

And with that, Saphira pressed on up the path at a brisk trot. It took her about five minutes to ascend the thousands of steps to the front door of Eragon's castle. With a slight nudge of her head, the heavy wooden doors with intricate patterns the elves had sung into the wood opened slowly. When they had swung all the way open, Saphira walked in, and just as soon as the tip of her tail had entered the threshold, the doors began to swing closed. Without letting Eragon undo the straps around his legs, Saphira trotted on, making her way through the maze of massive hallways and junctions to the large room that Eragon called his quarters and study.

It was a truly gigantic room, able to house at least three dragons of Saphira's size comfortably. The ceiling extended at least a full story above Saphira's head, and a large golden chandelier with bobbing werelights hung in the middle of the ceiling, illuminating every inch and corner of the blocky arched ceiling. Stopping, Saphira let Eragon drop to the floor. Then she walked over to one of the large windows, by which was a large hearth. In front of the window and hearth was Eragon's study; a large wooden desk with a chair, a bear pelt carpet and two lounge chairs directly in front of the fireplace.

Standing by the desk with his back towards Eragon and Saphira, was Blödhgarm. He seemed to be conversing with someone. Saphira stopped just behind him, and he turned to face her. "Ah, Saphira. We had just started talking about you."

Eragon crossed the length of the room over to his desk. He could see that Blödhgarm was cradling something in his right arm. As he drew closer, he realized it was Kaeshta, as the light from the fireplace reflected off of her scales. They were a beautiful mixture of purple and amethyst colors, and the light that bounced off of them sent a dazzling spray of diamond shaped purple hues on the floor.

Kaeshta rested lazily in Blödhgarm's arm, much like the ragdoll cats Eragon had seen resting on window sills in many cities throughout Alagaësia. Both her left front and back legs hung limply over the side of Blödhgarm's arm. She picked her head out from the crook of his arm and extended her head towards Saphira, who gently touched the tip of her nose with Kaeshta's nose. Kaeshta gave a soft hum when their noses parted. Her eyes were a very deep shade of purple, almost a blue color much like Saphira's scales but still not quite blue. Eragon still could not get over how much Kaeshta looked like Saphira; when she hatched, he could have sworn that she was Saphira's twin. Then the little dragon yawned and let her head slightly droop off the side of Blödhgarm's arm.

"You were not joking when you said they look alike," Eragon heard someone's voice say as he drew closer to Blödhgarm. He recognized the voice to be that of Orik. "Perhaps she and Saphira share the same mother?"

Eragon stopped beside Blödhgarm, who dipped his head towards him in acknowledgement, "Perhaps, but we cannot know for certain." Eragon looked down at the mirror standing on his desk and saw not his reflection, but Orik's.

"Well well," Orik said as soon as he saw Eragon, "if it isn't mine adopted brother. Eragon!" Orik exclaimed with joy. "How goes it where ever you are? We have not spoken in such a long time!"

"Orik," Eragon said with a smile, "it's good to see you. Everything fares well here. We've only just begun construction on the first buildings of our new city. Ah, I wish you were here to see the magnificence of this place. I'm sure you and you're people would love this place."

Orik gave a quick nod, "From what Blödhgarm has already told me, I'm already yearning to be there. A perfect ring of mountains in the middle of no where?"

Eragon nodded, "That's what it looks like from up high. And the central peak where our homes are is rich in iron."

"Iron, you say?" Orik place his left elbow in the palm of his right hand and began stroking his beard. His eyes moved from Eragon to Blödhgarm, "And the basin you are in falls half a mile below the forest floor outside the ring?"

"That is what we measured it out to be," Blödhgarm answered. "The ring itself is twelve miles in diameter."

"Are the peaks of the mountains connected with one another?" Orik asked.

"No," Blödhgarm replied. "Why do you ask if they are connected? Of what significance is that?"

"That reminds me," said Eragon. "Yesterday Saphira and I decided to fly southeast from the mountain ring. About ten miles from the ring, the forest ends, and the plains and scrubland begin. And the strange thing about that is that in some areas, the ground seems to have buckled upwards and cracked. We even saw stones and boulders that were the same as the mountains scattered across the landscape. The rocks of the plains are more of a brown color, rather than the white like our mountain ring."

Eragon saw a spark in Orik's eye, and his excitement became evident as his stroking of his beard quickened, "Eragon, Blödhgarm, I envy you both."

"How so?" Blödhgarm asked as he softly stroked Kaeshta's head with two fingers.

Orik took a deep breath, "It has been passed down among my people as a legend. No one knows how old the legend is, but it is said that every few thousand years, fire will rain down upon the land. Most of the time you will see it as nothing but a small, brief streak across the night sky."

"You mean a falling star?" Eragon asked.

Orik nodded, "If that is what your people call it, then yes. Falling stars are very frequent, but they are not very significant. But every few thousand years, one of significant size will fall to the earth." Blödhgarm and Eragon looked at one another. Orik continued, "Wherever these fires strike the earth, a terrible shuddering of the earth follows, as well as a great noise. If one were to investigate, what may have been nothing but flat land has become nothing but a large, deep depression surrounded by a ring of jagged mountains, all connected at the peaks. And in the very center of these depressions would be a single peak…rich in iron and other very rare metals."

_Are you saying that this basin we are living in is the result of a fire that fell from the sky?_ Saphira asked Orik, but allowed Eragon and Blödhgarm to hear.

"Aye, that's what it seems from what you have told me," Orik answered with another quick nod. "And the land around the depression will be buckled upwards and cracked, much like you described. And rocks will have been thrown outwards and spread out across miles of landscape. That is why you saw rocks much similar to the ones that make up the ring of mountains you are in."

"In other words," Blödhgarm began, "you're saying that the location of the next city of the Riders is in one of these depressions? Where a…falling star has hit the earth?"

"Yes. It's the only explanation that I can think of thus far, and it matches the description of the legend of old."

"But then why is the stone of the central peak rich in iron?" Eragon asked. "Not only that, but it is gray rather than white."

"My people believe that the iron rich peak in the center of these depressions is a gift from the gods." He had stroked his beard so much that he had formed it so that it looked like the straight head of a javelin, with a point at the end. "Yes, there are areas within the Beor Mountains where veins of iron will protrude on the surface, but the only way you will get an entire mountain that is composed primarily of iron is when a falling star strikes the earth. Now, in your case, the only description that is off is the ring of mountains. In the legend, there are no peaks, just a ring of jagged mountains all connected with one another."

His hand ceased stroking his beard and he pondered for a moment. "Perhaps…the depression you are in is not the one from the legend. Perhaps, it is from a falling star that struck the earth many hundreds of thousands, or perhaps millions of years ago. That is the only reasonable answer I can find for why there are peaks in your ring of mountains. It is very old, so old that time, water, and wind has weathered the softer parts of the ring down. Perhaps the ring used to be much higher than it is today."

"Interesting," said Blödhgarm. "To think that this place was formed as a result of a piece of stone falling from the stars."

"What's that?" Orik asked has his eyes fell upon the furred elf.

"What do you mean a piece of stone from the stars?" Eragon asked as well. "Don't you mean a falling star?"

Blödhgarm shook his head, "No. We elves have been observing the heavens for many centuries, Eragon. Stars do not fall. They are fixed in the heavens, and nothing can force them to leave their positions in the sky. What you call a falling star is actually a rock that originates from the heavens, not of this world."

"You mean to tell me that there are rocks full of iron and brightsteel up there?" Orik asked as he leaned his face closer to the mirror, studying Blödhgarm's expression carefully. Eragon could see nothing but the whole of the dwarf kings face in the mirror.

Blödhgarm gave a soft nod of his head, "Yes. That is what we have been able to determine through the many centuries we have been studying the night skies. It seems that the heavens are abundant with these otherworldly stones."

Orik leaned away from the mirror, and Eragon could see the face of another dwarf looking at them over Orik's shoulder before the dwarf disappeared from view behind the frame of the mirror, "Outstanding. Rocks not of this world…rocks full of gold and silver, perhaps full of diamonds! A treasure trove of jewels and metals, all up in the sky." He glanced upwards quickly before looking back at them, "It seems so close when you think about it, but in reality it is so far away."

Saphira let out a loud sigh as she lay down on the stone floor. _This conversation is interesting, at the very least,_ she said. _But was there not something important you wanted to speak to us about?_

"Ah, yes there is," said Orik. "Thank you for reminding me, Saphira." He paused, and looked over at someone to his left. He motioned for them to come closer, "Eragon, I'd like you to meet Flarolth." Orik smiled as the face of a young, red haired and beardless dwarf entered into the frame of the mirror. "Go on," Orik said to the young dwarf, "let them see you." Orik stepped out of view and urged the young dwarf into full view.

And there, sitting on the dwarfs right shoulder, perched much like a cat with its tail wrapped around his neck, was a dragon. Eragon became excited upon seeing the orange dragon, "Flarolth, it is good to meet you. So you are the very first dwarf rider! How does it feel to be the first of the knurla to bond with a dragon?" He studied the new dragon carefully. Much of the dragon was a brilliant orange luster, but its wings and underside were a deep hue of red, much like the stunning red color of Thorn's scales. The dragon looked from Blödhgarm to Eragon with its beautiful emerald green eyes; they were just as green as any emerald Eragon had ever seen during his time among the dwarves.

Kaeshta picked her head up from Blödhgarm's arm and admired the orange dragon. The orange dragon stretched its neck towards the mirror upon seeing Kaeshta, and the two gazed at one another with total interest. Kaeshta sniffed at the air a few times, trying to catch the scent of the orange dragon before her.

Flarolth opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated when he glimpsed Saphira's large eye looking at him over Eragon's shoulder. He stuttered, "D-do they really get t-that big?"

"Hm?" Eragon asked. He looked over his shoulder at Saphira, who blinked. "Yes, dragons do get quite big, much bigger than Saphira is at the moment in fact."

"What have you named your dragon, Flarolth?" Blödhgarm asked as he resumed stroking Kaeshta, this time on her neck.

"Athgar, after my father. He hatched only just yesterday," Flarolth replied. Athgar slightly turned his head towards Flarolth at the mention of his name, but other than that his attention remained fixed on Kaeshta.

"Athgar," Eragon repeated the name. A fitting name for the first dragon to hatch for a dwarf. "I'm sure that it will be a name that history will never forget. This is a turning point for the Riders, for now dwarves may finally share the title of Rider with the elves and humans." He cast a glanced at Blödhgarm, "Now only the Urgal's are left."

Blödhgarm nodded, "Let us just hope that they remain true to their word and not use the power their Rider gains for their own selfish purposes."

"Let us not think of them that way any longer," Eragon stated, "I'm sure they'll remain true to their promise. I have faith in them." He looked back at Flarolth, "Now, Flarolth. I am not going to force you, but I am giving you the option to come to us, the option to study to become a great Rider. You do not have to if you do not-"

"I wish to travel to you," Flarolth said enthusiastically, "and become the first and greatest dwarf Rider there ever was!"

Eragon smiled, "I like your enthusiasm. It is good to see that you are eager to bear the title of Rider. Now the only question remaining is how soon do you wish to leave?"

Flarolth pondered for a few minutes, thinking his answer over very carefully. Athgar's gaze ventured from Kaeshta to Saphira's large eye. He sniffed at the air a few times and then sneezed, startling Flarolth. Smoke shot forth from Athgar's nostrils when he sneezed, billowing up against the surface of the mirror before dissipating. Eragon heard Orik's hearty laugh from somewhere next to Flarolth. The young dwarf glanced at where Orik was outside the frame of the mirror, "I wish to leave in two days. I'd like to say proper farewell's to my family before I leave."

Eragon nodded, "Very well. But I will warn you, the journey to our location will take about six months of travel by boat and then four weeks worth of travel on foot. Well, one week if you do it on dragonback." He glanced at Blödhgarm again, "You think he'll be able to ride dragonback by the time they reach the drop off point on the river?"

Blödhgarm shrugged, "Perhaps. But it would be wise to train him somewhat to ride dragonback before they undertake the journey. Someone with experience needs to train him."

"Is it really that difficult to ride on the back of a dragon?" Flarolth asked.

"It is fairly difficult at the beginning, yes," Eragon replied. "But once you've flown a few times, it becomes progressively easier." His eyes moved to Athgar, for the orange dragon had released its hold on Flarolth's neck with his tail, and seemed to be readying himself for a pounce; his gaze had gone back to Kaeshta. Athgar shuffled his wings a few times. Kaeshta watched him intently, seeming to wonder what Athgar was doing. Eragon knew what the little orange dragon intended to do. He opened his mouth to warn Flarolth, but it was too late, for Athgar had leapt off of the dwarf's shoulder towards the mirror. Flarolth yelped in surprise when he felt Athgar leap from his shoulder and strike the surface of the mirror. All Eragon could see was brown and gray as the mirror toppled end over end through the air. And then four fingers appeared at the top of the mirror as someone had caught the mirror.

Kaeshta was surprised as well when she saw the orange dragon suddenly grow large for a moment when he hit the mirrors surface. She jumped from Blödhgarm's arm onto his left shoulder to Eragon's right shoulder, scurried from his right to his left shoulder, and leaped up onto Saphira's head. Saphira did not flinch at all as Kaeshta clambered up over her left eye ridge and onto the very top of her head. There, she tucked her front paws underneath her lilac colored belly and watched the mirror carefully.

Orik's face appeared in the mirror as he held it in both hands, "Sorry about that Eragon."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Orik," Eragon replied as the dwarf king returned the mirror back onto the surface it had been standing on just before. Flarolth now had Athgar tucked under his left arm. The little orange dragon was gazing up at the young dwarf, who in turn was looking down at the dragon. "Athgar is but a hatchling. He could not have known that we were not in the room with you, nor could he have known that he could not pass through the mirror. It is all part of the learning experience for a young dragon. They are much like all of us when we are young, we make mistakes and we learn from those mistakes."

Orik nodded, "Aye, mistakes. It's still hard to recognize that dragons have just as much of a conscience as us, and that they aren't mere animals."

_Anyone who thinks of us as mere animals would be a fool to stand before me or any other dragon for that matter,_ said Saphira. A puff of smoke rose from her nostrils and over her head. The smoke enveloped Kaeshta for a moment before continuing to rise. Kaeshta snorted twice when the smoke surrounded her.

Orik chuckled heartily, "Aye, they'd be a fool alright. But you know full well I'm not one of those fools." He glanced over his shoulder at Flarolth, who was still looking into Athgar's emerald eyes. "The first knurla to become a rider," Orik said shaking his head as he turned back towards Eragon and Blödhgarm, "I don't think any knurla ever thought this day would ever come. But it's thanks to you, Eragon that this day has come. I know I've said this before, but on behalf of the knurla you have our eternal thanks, Eragon."

Eragon smiled and bowed his head, but did not say anything.

"Back to what we were discussing before," said Blödhgarm, "I believe it is wise for you to go out to the drop off point to meet Flarolth and Athgar there to teach them in the art of riding dragonback."

Eragon pondered the suggestion for a moment before giving his answer, "That may be a wise decision, since I have the most experience on dragonback. But I must also see to the location of new construction. At the moment, I have more responsibility on my shoulders than you do, Blödhgarm."

"But I have little to no experience on dragonback," the furred elf objected. "How may I teach a new Rider how to fly, if I have not learned how to fly myself?"

Eragon glanced up at the little purple dragon perched atop Saphira's head. He smiled when she looked at him, "She has six months to grow. By that time, I'm confident that she'll be large enough for you to ride. And during that six month period, Saphira may instruct you on how to fly dragonback." He shot a glance down at Saphira, "Would you be willing to let him ride you?"

Saphira was silent for a moment. She quickly looked up at Kaeshta before she answered, _Yes. I am willing to teach Blödhgarm. But only on one condition._

"What would that be?" asked Eragon.

_The little one would like to participate in flying,_ Saphira responded. _She would also like to experience how to fly._

Eragon was concerned with this condition, but it soon faded away when Blödhgarm said, "Yes. I feel that if I am to learn how to ride dragonback, Kaeshta should also experience how it is to fly until she is able to herself."

Eragon nodded, "Then it's settled." He turned back towards the mirror, "By the time Flarolth arrives at the drop off point, I'm confident that Athgar will be of reasonable size to fly, and Blödhgarm will be capable of instructing Flarolth on how to ride."

"Very good," Orik replied. He leaned away from the mirror, and looked towards Flarolth and Athgar, "Well, let us just hope that everything works out smoothly, and they arrive there safely."

"I just have one question," Flarolth said looking up from Athgar towards the mirror. "How am I to learn to fly if I have no saddle?"

"Well," Blödhgarm said, "Eragon did say that Athgar would be of reasonable size to be able to fly, but he did not say that you would be riding on his back. When we meet one another at the drop off, I'm willing to instruct you how to fly, with the help of Kaeshta. You'll be riding on her back, rather than Athgar's. It is not safe to ride without a saddle. On our journey here, you'll be riding with me on Kaeshta. When we arrive here, there will be a saddle waiting for you."

"Just make sure he gets there in one piece," said Orik. "I don't want to hear that he fell out of the saddle and died during his training, you hear?"

Blödhgarm nodded, "Do not worry, King Orik. I will not be teaching him anything extreme. Everyone must start with basics."

Satisfied with Blödhgarm's answer, Orik crossed his arms and left the frame of the mirror. "Good," he said. "Well, we must be going now. We must finish with preparations for the feast and celebration in honor of Flarolth becoming the first dwarf Rider."

Eragon nodded and smiled, "Try not to get him too drunk before he departs on his journey."

Orik laughed, "Unlike humans, we knurla can tolerate a large amount of mead. No need to worry. Farewell then, Eragon, Blödhgarm, Saphira."

_Farewell,_ said Saphira.

"Farewell," Eragon said. Blödhgarm bowed his head towards the dwarf king.

And then the reflection of Orik, Flarolth and Athgar faded, and they were looking at their own reflections. Blödhgarm turned towards Saphira and held out his hands. Saphira leaned her head closer to him, and Kaeshta hopped down from her head into his waiting arms. In no time, she had made herself comfortable and nestled her head between the crook of his elbow and forearm.

_Well,_ said Saphira, _things are beginning to move forward. It is finally the start of something, a turning point in history._

Eragon nodded, "Yes. The start of something; the rebuilding of the Riders."

**Ä**

**End Chapter 1**

* * *

**Pronunciation of Names:**  
 **Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh**  
 **Athgar: AUTH-gar**  
 **Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm**  
 **Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall**  
 **Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon**  
 **Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn**  
 **Flarolth: fla-roll-th**  
 **Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks**  
 **Irethil: EAR-uh-thill**  
 **Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh**  
 **Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah**  
 **Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah**  
 **Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **4/17/14: So, I learned about AO3 from my professor last week. Told me what it's about and all that. Finally got to register today. I decided that, alongside uploading my fan fic/continuation stories on FF, I'll upload them here as well. After all, my aim is to not just become a writer someday, but to also provide readers with quality material for reading. To do that, I need to reach other audiences aside from the one's I've reached on FF and dA. So, I became interested in AO3 after my professor suggested to me that I check it out and maybe start uploading my stories here. I'll start by uploading one of my more well-developed stories, my IC continuation story. It's still a work in progress, as are all my stories thus far. But just as a reminder, I am still in college. Some of you may notice on FF that I haven't updated this story with a new chapter in over a year. That's because classes have become a bit more work intensive in the last two semesters. On top of that, I work at my own pace. Sometimes, I won't have any creative spark and won't write for several weeks to a month. Other times I'll write for several days when I get the creative spark. But hopefully I can keep myself motivated by uploading existing chapters here every week or so. This is the first chapter, so over the next 12 weeks, I'll add on a chapter each week. But anyways, this AN is too big already, so I'll stop now.**   
> **P.S.: I'm still trying to figure out how to indent paragraphs using AO3's HTML system. So for now, sorry about the lack of indentations in each paragraph.**


	2. Ancients of an Unknown Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By: Filip Lesiczka
> 
> This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.
> 
> This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Work on this chapter originally began on 3/26/12.**   
>  **Chapter was originally published on FF on 4/20/12.**

* * *

Two days after Horst had told Roran about the collapse of the cliff side near the edge of the village, the rain finally died down. By the third day, everything began to dry, but the ground remained saturated with water, and large pond sized puddles were abundant, making it difficult not to dirty one's shoes with mud. On the fourth day, Roran had had enough of sitting in his home.

"Katrina," Roran shouted as he passed the door to the living room. "I am leaving to meet Horst by the cliff."

"That is fine," Katrina's voice replied from within the room. "Why don't you take Ismira with you?"

Before Roran could reply, Ismira came bouncing out of the doorway and wrapped her small arms around his legs. The brown haired girl looked up at him with her hazel-brown eyes, and squeaked, "Can I come with you father?"

Roran knelt down and scooped up the little girl in his arms as he smiled warmly, "It is too dangerous for a child to wander around the cliff when it is not safe. I will not risk having you there with me, Ismira." Ismira furrowed her eyebrows and pushed out her lower lip, giving him a look of sadness, "I'm sorry, but you will have to stay with your mother. But you may go play with Hope today. I'm sure she is still home."

The little girls face brightened up with happiness at the mention of Hope's name. "Yay!" she exclaimed. She turned when she heard Katrina step out of the living room, "Mama, can we go see Hope today?"

Katrina smiled, "Well of course you can." She looked at Roran, "I was meaning to go see Elain today, pick up some vegetables. We're running short on them."

"All because of a blasted storm," Roran stated. "It's incredible to think that nature can be so resilient, especially when it comes to the weather. I do believe that this is the worst and longest storm the Palancar has seen yet."

Katrina nodded in agreement, "Yes it was. I heard from Baldor that the storm reached as far south as the Urgal settlements. It seems that Nar Garzhvog's settlement was washed away."

"Was it now?" asked Roran. "I had not heard. Perhaps we should send some men down to help them relocate. It's the least we can do for them."

"I don't think they'd like the assistance. They might think that we think of them as being weaklings." Katrina brushed aside a few loose strands of hair that had fallen over her left eye.

Roran nodded, "Perhaps. But it never hurts to send assistance anyway. If they refuse, then the men will be ordered to immediately return." Ismira wrapped her arms around his neck for a moment before she reached back towards Katrina, who lifted her out of Roran's arms and into her own. He sighed, "Well then, I'm off to see what all the commotion is about the cave."

"Tell me what you find papa!" Ismira exclaimed happily.

"I will," Roran said as he leaned forward and gave both her and Katrina kisses on their foreheads. He looked into both of their eyes. He wanted to stay just a bit longer with them, but he knew he had to see to it that there was no more danger around the cliff. As he leaned back from them, he hesitated upon locking eyes with Katrina and kissed her once more, this time on her lips. He did not break the kiss for several seconds.

"Be careful," said Katrina when he broke the kiss and leaned away from her. Roran nodded and departed, leaving her standing with Ismira in front of the living room door.

A dog with long golden yellow fur walked out of the living room and stopped by Katrina's feet, its tongue slightly protruding from between its jaws and chops as it panted lightly. It cocked its head to one side, pricked its drooping ears forward when it saw Roran walking away from them, and whined.

Hearing the whine, Roran looked over his shoulder and clapped his hands together twice. "Come, Zophia!" he called to the dog. With that the golden furred dog bolted after him, its claws scratching and clacking against the hard wooden floor boards.

ͼͽ

Roran tossed a large stick away from him into one of the large ornamental fish ponds that had been built near the center of the village, a short distance from Baldor's home. Zophia leaped from the bank of the pond into the water after the stick, causing the many different colored ornamental fish that swam in the pond to scatter.

One of the villagers had found the fish species three years earlier in an isolated bay on the northern edge of Leona Lake. Since then Danik, the villager who discovered the fish, bred the fish and began selling them off, starting one of the first major businesses of Oestaerya.

Zophia grabbed the floating stick between her jaws and proceeded to swim back. She ignored the larger orange, black and white calico fish as they nipped at her paws and tail, tasting her with their large soft mouths in order to find out if she was food. Their mouths protruded above the surface of the water as they swam towards her, opening and closing repeatedly as if begging for food. She reached the edge of the pond, and placed her front paws up on the bank, but could not lift herself up out of the water. Her back legs splashed at the surface of the water, trying to reach up for a foothold on the bank. She whined.

Roran chuckled as he stepped forward, knelt down on one knee, and with relative ease, hoisted the wet golden dog out of the water by the scruff on the back of her neck. When all four paws were on the ground, Zophia dropped the stick and shook herself. As her head turned, her wet floppy ears slapped against the sides of her head. Water droplets flew in all directions as they were shaken off her drenched fur.

Roran jumped back as the water droplets pelted him, "Oh, Zophia! Must you do that while I am standing next to you?"

Zophia looked up at him, a look of content and utter joy on her muzzle as she panted with her pink tongue lolling out of her jaws.

Roran smiled when he saw how happy she was, "Ah, who am I to spoil your fun?" He bent down, grabbed the stick, and continued walking to his destination. Zophia followed close behind, watching the stick intently. When he did not throw the stick for her, she lunged forward and grabbed the stick with her jaws, growling playfully as she did and a tug-of-war ensued between her and Roran for the rest of the walk.

ͼͽ

Roran tossed the stick away when they reached the cliff side, and Zophia galloped after it. Roran looked towards the jumble of tan rocks that used to be part of the cliff face just on the outskirts of the village. A small hut stood nearby the collapse, with one large boulder as big as the hut itself resting just behind the hut. If the boulder had fallen just a few inches closer, the hut would have been flattened.

"Roran!" someone shouted from the rock jumble. He moved his eyes to the person who was running towards him. It was Horst, "Good of you to come. We just managed to secure a ladder up to the cave."

"Good," Roran said as he and Horst walked together towards the collapse. "Has anyone been inside yet?"

Horst shook his head, "No one has gone more than three feet inside. No one is willing to venture inside until you had arrived." He and Roran began to clamber up among the rocks, climbing over and under boulders and slabs of the tan colored rocks. Zophia was hot on their heels, and soon overtook them, jumping skillfully from rock to rock like a mountain goat.

It took them five minutes to weave their way through the maze of rocks and boulders until they finally reached the foot of the cliff, where two tents had been pitched up.

Baldor ran up to Roran, huffing and puffing. "Roran!" he said with excitement. The collar of his shirt was soaked with sweat, which ran down his face and neck. He put his hands on his knees and bent forward, gasping for breath.

"Blast it Baldor," Horst scolded, "I told you to take it easy! You've only just recovered from your accident!"

"I'm fine father," Baldor retorted, "see?" He straightened up and swung his right arm around three times in a circle. "Perfectly fine!"

Horst grunted with disproval, but did not say anything further.

"Roran," Baldor said after he caught his breath, "you must come see. I think we've found something! Come! This way!"

Roran and Horst followed him passed the two tents. A large group of workers stood clustered near a large rock the size of a horse.

"Move away!" Baldor shouted. "Roran must see this!"

The men parted and allowed the three to pass through.

"Here it is!" Baldor exclaimed in excitement. "None of us know what it is. Perhaps it's in the language of the dwarves? Or the elves?" He pointed to a face of the rock that was relatively flat.

On that flat surface, was the shape of a doorway that was slightly taller than the average man, resting against the boulder. On this doorway were numerous runes and carvings the likes of which Roran had never seen before. He shook his head as he gazed in wonder at the strange, elegantly curved runes that perhaps made up words or letters of words, "I've seen both written languages of the dwarves and elves…this looks nothing like their languages. Not one bit."

He placed his hand on the surface of the doorway, and ran his fingers over the smooth carvings and runes, "I don't think this is a language any of us have any idea of," Roran continued. "Perhaps the elves might have some idea of what these runes are." He glanced up at Baldor, "Go and retrieve the mirror. We need to inform Arya and Nasuada about this discovery at once."

ͼͽ

Roran turned the mirror towards the strange doorway propped up against the rock so that Arya could see it. There was silence for a few minutes while Arya and one of her expert scholars on the Ancient language studied the runes.

"May you move closer to the runes on the upper left of the carving?" Roran heard the male elf scholar ask. He moved closer to the area the elf had spoken about, where the runes were more abundant.

"I do not believe I have ever seen anything like these before," Arya said. Roran detected the amazement in her voice, but imagined her with an expressionless face. "These runes are…nothing similar to the Ancient language."

"Yes," the male elf agreed, "nothing similar. I see absolutely no similarities to the Ancient language. The structure of these runes is…" He trailed off as he studied the runes further.

"Are you saying that we may have discovered some…new ancient language?" Roran asked as he himself studied the runes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the workers lean forward and point to some carvings in the lower right of the doorway, and his friend next to him nodded.

"Let us not jump to conclusions just yet," Arya said. "It may just be the Ancient language, written in a dwarven interpretation."

"I do not believe so," the male elf stated. "I am familiar with ancient dwarven runes, and they are not as precise as these. Their runes are more…rudimentary and very bulky." There was a pause for a moment before he spoke again, "With your permission, I'd like to travel down there and examine the artifact more closely. I cannot make any precise observations through this mirror."

"You may," Arya replied. "Fírnen and I will travel with you as well; I'd like to get a closer look at these runes myself. Is that alright with you, Roran?"

"You are always welcome in our village," Roran responded as he turned the mirror towards him with one flick of his finger. "I contacted Nasuada as well. She and Jeod will be up here within four days."

Arya nodded, "Very well. It might help to have Jeod there as well. We shall be there within four days as well."

"Good. In the mean time, I'll wait on venturing into the cave until you get here." Arya gave him a questioning look, "We think this doorway is a cover for the cave opening that the collapse has exposed." Roran turned the mirror once more, up towards the opening of the cave. The opening was the same shape as the carving on the rock, "It's amazing that the carving is completely intact and that breaking away from the cliff did not cause it to crumble into pieces."

"That is most intriguing," Roran heard the male elf say. "It seems your assumption may be right."

"Now I am very intrigued," Arya said as Roran turned the mirror back toward his face again. "We will leave for Oestaerya at once."

Roran nodded with a smile, "Safe travels to you. Try not to push Fírnen too hard."

Arya smiled, " Fírnen is not young any longer, Roran. He is just as capable as Saphira is with long travel."

"Ah, yes. I'd forgotten that five years have already passed, and that dragons grow rather quickly. It's been that long since I've seen a dragon."

"Then in four days, you will see a dragon once again."

Roran smiled again with a nod, "I look forward to seeing Fírnen once more. Farewell then."

"Farewell," Arya said. With that, Arya's reflection faded, and he was looking at his own rough reflection.

He looked at himself for a moment, rubbing his chin. His beard had grown fairly quickly since he shaved three days earlier. Perhaps he needed to shave his beard again before Arya and Nasuada arrived. He studied his features and noticed that he could see well defined lines on his forehead, as well as at the corners of his eyes. His laugh lines were just as well defined as his forehead lines.

He thought to himself, _I look as if I've aged ten years…and it's only been five. Gods, time flows quickly without much excitement happening. I long for the old days again. I have not used my hammer much since Galbatorix was overthrown._

He lowered the mirror and glanced up at the sky as the workers began to crowd around the carved doorway once more. His mind wandered to Eragon once more, _I wonder how much older you look, Eragon. Perhaps you have not changed much since we last saw one another, just like Arya._

Zophia appeared at Roran's side and licked his right hand furiously. He glanced down at her and smiled when she started wagging her tail. He knelt down and petted her roughly, "But time doesn't seem to affect your playfulness and energy, does it?" Zophia responded with two wet kisses on his right cheek.

Roran chuckled, "No. You don't see how time flows. Time is irrelevant to you, right? It's all about fun and games." He playfully pushed the golden dog away with his hand and she spun back around, ready for another push. He pushed her away again and stood up, "Come, let's go to the forest."

At the mention of the forest, Zophia turned and sprinted in the direction of the woods, quickly weaving her way through the sea of legs.

ͼͽ

Arya, Fírnen and the elf scholar arrived first on the morning of the fourth day. By the time Roran reached them, a crowd had already formed around the large green dragon. Fírnen gazed down curiously at the mass of faces that surrounded him, as he had not seen so many two-legged-round-ears in quite some time.

"Roran," Arya said when he finally made it into the center of the circle surrounding Fírnen, "it's good to see you."

"And you as well, Queen Arya," Roran said as he bowed.

"Please Roran," Arya said as she shot a quick glance around, "there is no need for formalities with me. We are friends. There is no need for you to call me Queen."

Roran nodded with a soft chuckle, "Yes, sorry about that." He looked her over quickly for a moment. She had not changed one bit. Unlike the previous queen of the elves, her mother, Arya did not wear elaborate clothing. She wore a fairly simple green skirt like any other common female elf would. She wore the same leggings and boots that she wore every time she rode Fírnen, the same one's she wore when they saw Eragon off on his journey to lands beyond.

After five years, Arya still looked stunning with her long flowing hair and dazzling eyes, and Roran then understood why Eragon had fallen for her. Two braids of her hair began directly above her forehead, and were pulled back tightly on either side of her head. They were woven together in a knot at the back of her head before both braids were allowed to hang down loosely from the woven knot. The braids created a sort of crown of hair. Arya's golden circlet itself rested on this crown of hair, snug between the braids and her head.

Then he looked up at Fírnen. The small dragon Roran had last seen on the way back to reunite with Katrina was no longer small. He was just as large as Saphira was before she and Eragon had left. "You look familiar," Roran said jokingly with a smile, "have we met before?"

Fírnen gave a confused snort, _Have you already forgotten me, Roran-Eragon's-brother? Has time already erased my name from your memory?_

Roran tossed his head back and let out a hearty laugh, "Of course I haven't forgotten you, Fírnen! It's just an expression of my people, a way some old friends greet each other after a long time of not seeing one another."

 _Ah,_ said Fírnen as he fidgeted awkwardly and shuffled his wings, still confused by the expression. _Then you look familiar as well._

Roran chuckled, and Arya smiled and laughed silently. "Perhaps we should begin educating him in your culture," Arya stated. A light wind blew a loose strand of hair from the top of her head down over her forehead. She reached up and tucked the strand of hair under one of the braids.

"Perhaps," Roran said.

The elf scholar standing off to Arya's right side made an impatient movement that Arya noticed, "Ah yes. Roran, this is Hölgeron, my foremost expert on the Ancient language. He's very eager to see the discovery you've made."

Hölgeron bowed his head towards Roran. He was an elderly elf, perhaps the only elf Roran had seen that showed signs of significant age, not just because of his pure snow white hair. There were faint lines above his high cheek bones, as well as slight wrinkles at each corner of his eyes. The only other thing that blemished his rather pristine peach-colored and smooth skin was a single, very thin scar that Roran almost missed. The scar ran in a perfectly straight, diagonal line from the inner corner of his right eye, up and over the high bridge of his nose and stopped just above the left corner of his mouth.

"Well," said Roran, "let's not keep you waiting. Like you, I'm eager to find out myself what we've found. Please, follow me."

The crowd parted to let them through. The ground trembled slightly as Fírnen followed closely behind them.

Arya walked beside Roran as they made their way towards the collapsed cliff side, "I trust no one has been in the cave yet." Roran shook his head in response, "Good. I'd feel better if no one ventured in until we know exactly what this discovery is. For all we know, there could be a trap hidden somewhere within the tunnel."

Roran nodded, "Yes. I've had guards posted to watch the ladder for the last four days. Hopefully, when Nasuada arrives with Jeod and Elva, we'll know then if there are traps."

 _Is that what we have come to see?_ Fírnen asked as he craned his neck slightly upwards. _A hole within the rock?_ Roran could sense a bit of disappointment in Fírnen's deep voice.

"It's not just a hole," Roran replied, "it's a mystery. I don't think that tunnel has seen the light of day for centuries."

A deep grunt of displeasure came from behind Roran, _You had promised that we would be going on an adventure._

"And an adventure this is," Arya said as she cast a glance over her right shoulder up at the majestic green dragon, "an adventure for knowledge."

 _How is that an adventure?_ Fírnen asked with another snort. _I do not see how looking at a hole within the rock is an adventure._

"Yes, there is no adventure in looking at a hole in the rock, correct," Hölgeron stated, "but it's inside the hole where the adventure lies." He, Roran, and Arya began to ascend up the crude path that had been cleared in order to the carved doorway.

Fírnen on the other hand, took to nimbly scaling the jumble of rocks. His large paws easily covered rocks that were larger than Roran as he hopped from boulder to boulder. Whenever he encountered a boulder that was larger than the rest, yet still no larger than him, he jumped on top of it very skillfully and gracefully.

They reached the area that had been cleared of much of the larger debris, "Here it is. The stone in question is over here by the tents," Roran said as he had Arya and Hölgeron follow him.

Fírnen leaped nimbly to the top of the last large boulder on the edge of the cleared area. There he sat down on his haunches, looking content with his new perch, and studied his new surroundings for a moment. He turned his attention towards the opening in the rock, and peered inside with one huge eye. He snorted when he did not see anything interesting, turned his body towards the summer sun and basked in its warmth.

Hölgeron was the first to reach the carved doorway. He leaned over the face of the stone covering and his gentle fingers immediately fell upon the smooth surface of the molded stone, tracing the different patterns and runes. As Roran neared, he could tell the elderly elf was utterly enthralled by the new, but ancient runes.

Arya joined Hölgeron on his right side, while Roran stood on his left side. Arya leaned forward and placed her right hand on the flat surface of the doorway cover. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she scrutinized the runes. Roran leaned forward as well, but did not lean too close so as not to interrupt Hölgeron's train of thought.

Hölgeron tapped his finger on one of the runes near the top right of the molded doorway as he spoke to Arya, "What does this look like to you?"

"I was just thinking that it looks vaguely similar to the rune the dwarves use for the word 'water,'" Arya responded. Her eyes scanned the rest of the runes at the top of the doorway carving, but she recognized nothing else. She shook her head in disappointment, "But all these other runes, I don't recognize. None of these runes have any similarities to any other language."

"Are you sure?" asked Roran. Arya nodded in response and Roran sighed, "Then I guess my familiarity with the Ancient language is off." He pointed to a single rune in the very center of the stone cover, "I thought this looked a lot like the script used for the word 'dragon.'"

Hölgeron and Arya turned their focus to the rune in question. Unlike the rest of the runes on the doorway, the rune in question was the only one that was lifted, rather than engraved in the stone.

Arya gently touched the lifted rune and traced its form with her fingers. "He's right," she said with a trace of amazement in her voice. Hölgeron nodded. "The reason it looks similar to the Ancient script for 'dragon' is that it is the rune for 'dragon.'"

Hölgeron was silent for a minute while he scrutinized the rune with noticeable intensity. "It is the rune for 'dragon'…but something is off about it. The structure of the rune is different from Ancient runes I am familiar with. No Ancient runes utilize this type of elegant flowing style." He looked the whole doorway over very quickly, "All of these runes have nothing in common with the Ancient language, yet there is something about them that seems similar to the Ancient language."

Roran was confused by Hölgeron's observation, glancing at the elderly elf with a raised eyebrow, "But…I thought you just said that this rune is the same as the Ancient script for the word 'dragon.'" He suddenly experienced the feeling of stepping into a very deep and ancient mystery. "How then can these runes have nothing in common with the ancient language?" He reached up with his right hand and wiped the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead as a result of the summer heat.

Hölgeron shook his head after a momentary silence, "I can't give you an answer. I…just cannot quite put my finger on it." He pointed to the 'dragon' rune, "Although this rune more than likely says 'dragon,' there's something about it that does not match with the Ancient script for 'dragon.' It is…very alien. It has a very alien feeling about it. All of these runes have an alien feeling about them." Roran studied the elderly elf, searching his expressionless face for something that could tell him the elf was either not telling the truth, or that he knew something about the runes he did not want to share.

But Roran's search was in vain; Hölgeron was telling the truth. The elf truly had no idea what the runes were and what language they were of.

The whole while, Fírnen carefully listened in on the conversation. He opened one eye when silence fell among the three, and peered through the gap between Roran and Hölgeron at the stone carving they were all so mesmerized by. His eye fell upon the lifted rune Hölgeron's finger was still pointing to.

He had never before seen such a rune in his life, yet it was strangely familiar to him. It was frighteningly familiar to him, as if it were written in his blood. He turned his head and focused on the alien, yet somehow familiar rune.

Suddenly, something within him clicked and he knew what the rune said. _Dragonkey,_ he said.

All three heads turned towards him upon hearing him speak the word.

"What?" Roran asked.

"Dragonkey?" Hölgeron asked as he turned back to the lifted rune.

"Fírnen," said Arya as she furrowed her eyebrows slightly, "what do you mean?"

 _I know what it says,_ the majestic green dragon answered. He lowered his head and craned his neck forward so that it was only a few feet from Hölgeron's back. _Move,_ he said firmly.

Hearing Fírnen's firm command, Hölgeron stepped to the side and away from the stone covering, allowing Fírnen to view the whole of the doorway and its runes.

Minutes of silence passed by as Fírnen carefully scanned each rune with his stunning amber eyes. During that time, Baldor came running up the pathway to inform Roran that Nasuada had arrived with Elva and Jeod, as well as a small caravan of scholars. Roran told him to show them the way up before turning back to look at Fírnen. Baldor then left without another word.

A minute after Baldor had departed from their presence, Fírnen drew his neck back and let out a long huff of frustration. Roran could see from Fírnen's expression that the familiarity with the runes troubled him somewhat.

 _I do not understand,_ Fírnen said, _I have never before seen these symbols in my life. Yet I know how to read them without any trouble, as if I have been reading them all my life._ He paused for a moment to shuffle his wings, indicating his unease before he continued, _They're...so familiar to me, as if they've been a part of my knowledge since I hatched._

"What does it say?" Arya asked, placing a hand on his right foreleg.

Fírnen cast a wary glance at the molded doorway before reading to them, _"Here lie the last of the Tøvrí, the Caretakers, and the last of their people. Descendants of the mightiest of the sky, companions of the mightiest of the waters and overseers of the mightiest of the lands. In life, we are born of the dragon. Let the name of our people, the Drëkøn, be forever engraved within the flow of time, be forever remembered and respected by all throughout history."_

When he had finished, he fidgeted in an uncomfortable manner and shivered slightly, sending a flurry of flashing green lights darting and zipping in all directions on the cliff face and the surrounding area. _The name,_ he said, _I don't know why…but I know it. Just like the runes, it's familiar to me._

Roran gazed up at the green, sensing that he was troubled by something, "Why are you afraid?"

Fírnen snorted, _I am not afraid!_ There was a moment of silence as Fírnen clenched and unclenched his claws, carving deep parallel scratches into the rock beneath him. He spoke again, _I do not like having knowledge that I do not recall ever gaining. I've never seen these runes, or heard of the Drëkøn, ever! Yet it is all familiar to me. Why?_ Fírnen's upper lip curled up slightly into a silent snarl.

Roran, Arya and Hölgeron were silent, as none of them had an answer for him.

"Maybe I can tell you why," said a young yet womanly voice. All eyes turned and beheld Elva, who was garbed in a short red silk dress that fell just passed her knees. The fringes of her collar, the arm openings and the bottom of the dress were embroidered in gold with a yellow gem the size of Roran's thumbnail knitted into the dresses collar, just above Elva's sternum.

Her stunning black hair had grown passed her shoulder blades, falling just short of her waistline. The mark on her forehead was still there and in full view, with her bangs combed in a way so as not to obscure the mark.

Nasuada appeared by her right side, along with Jeod. Both Nasuada and Jeod wore the same clothing Roran had last seen them wearing before he departed for the Palancar Valley five years before. Since that time, like Roran, they had both aged as well. Elva had also changed, but only slightly. However she was much taller than when he had last seen her. Standing next to Nasuada, Roran could see she had grown quite a bit, for her head was level Nasuada's shoulder. Not only that, but Elva appeared much like any young and beautiful teenage girl.

Roran smiled, happy to see the familiar faces of his friends, "It's good to see all of you again."

"And you as well," Nasuada responded with a warm smile. "It has been quite some time since we've seen one another."

Jeod only gave a nod in Roran's direction before he hurried passed him and quickly leaned over the doorway cover by the time Roran glanced over his shoulder. Hölgeron joined Jeod, explaining to him what they had learned about the runes from Fírnen.

Fírnen lowered his head until he stared Elva directly in the eye, _You said you can provide me with an answer to why I know all these things._ His voice took on a very intimidating tone at that point; Roran could tell that Fírnen was still wary of Elva, that he did not fully trust her.

But Elva showed no hint of being intimidated by the dragon. If anything, she returned Fírnen's intimidating gaze. She nodded, "Yes, I can." She reached up with her right hand and placed it on his snout. Fírnen seemed to flinch at the touch, but remained still as his eyes crossed to keep Elva in his field of vision. "It is written in you blood," she said after a tense moment of silence, "the language of the Drëkøn. The knowledge of the Drëkøn has been passed down by your ancestors through the centuries, not by the voice, memories, or the mind, but by blood."

 _But tell me little one,_ Fírnen said after a moment of pondering Elva's answer, _who are or were the Drëkøn?_

Elva removed her hand from Fírnen's snout and gave a shrug, turning away from the dragon, "I can't answer that question, because I don't know the answer. The only way to find out is to go up there." She pointed up the cliff side at the opening within the rock face.

"I thought it would come to that," said Arya.

"That's what I feared," Roran added. Arya looked at him, and he spoke with an air of authority, "I know you are as interested and mystified by this little discovery of ours, but I'm not about to let anyone up there until we know it's safe."

"Elva," said Nasuada, "can you sense any traps in there?"

Elva grimaced as she concentrated on feeling the tunnel for magical and non-magical traps. After a moment she shook her head, "No. I can't feel anything that will cause death."

Nasuada cast Roran a questioning look, "Is that reassuring enough for you?"

With a sigh, Roran shook his head, "No, it's not. Just because Elva can't detect anything dangerous, doesn't mean there isn't. We don't know what we're dealing with here." He reached up with his right hand and wiped away droplets of sweat on his forehead again, "For all we know, there might be thousands of magical traps that use magic that we may have never dealt with before. Magic that is perhaps far older than the Ancient language itself."

"Roran is right Nasuada," Arya said, adding her own voice to his concern. "Before humans lived here, elves lived in Alagaësia for centuries. There has never been any record or any tale of any cave openings, or strange ruins." A gentle wind blew in from behind her, caressing her long and silky unbraided hair, "As much as Hölgeron has lectured me about Palancar Valley, he has never once mentioned anything of any inhabitants or ruins of any kind being present when elves first arrived in Palancar Valley."

"If that's true," Roran said as he stared up at the opening in the rock, "then that means that this cliff was always here, and in one piece. Since that cave is man-made, then perhaps we're dealing with a culture that precedes that of the elves…and the dwarves." He pursed his lips to wet moisten them as he continued, "That, in turn would mean that maybe there was also magic, magic far older, far more advanced and completely different than the magic we know of."

"Thus making it hard for Elva to detect," Nasuada concluded. She glanced at Elva, who gave her an apologetic look with a shrug. Then she sighed, "Very well, then we're going to have to find some way to detect this magic and disarm it, if there is any."

The whole while they were discussing, Hölgeron and Jeod were discussing amongst themselves about the meaning of the 'dragonkey' rune. They shot many ideas about its meaning between one another, until Jeod noticed the strange depression directly beneath the rune.

"Say, what does this look like to you?" he asked.

Hölgeron focused on the depression in question.

It was a long depression in the stone of about nine or so inches, set at least three or four inches within the stone. It started out wide at the top, then gradually narrowed until it came to a single small and sharp point at the bottom of the depression. The point was a small, almost as if it were a molding of the tip of some sort of sharp object. Where the depression was set about three inches within the stone, it was curved gracefully and smoothly.

Hölgeron glanced over his shoulder at Fírnen. His eyes moved down to the dragons claws, which were long and curved, much like the mysterious depression. His head snapped back towards the stone, his long white hair whipping outwards as he did.

"I think I have an idea," he said. He straightened up and turned towards the green dragon. "Fírnen, I require your assistance."

 _My assistance?_ asked Fírnen as he blinked and cocked his head to one side. He hesitated for a moment before he snorted and hopped down from his perch a top the large boulder. The ground shook when he landed and Roran watched as small pebbles the size of wheat grains skipped up and down gently off the ground with each light step Fírnen took. He halted just a few feet from Hölgeron, and then sat back down on his haunches, _I have already told you what the runes say._

"Yes," Hölgeron replied with a nod of his head, "you have translated the runes for us. But I believe I have found what is meant by the word 'dragonkey.'"

Roran, Arya, Nasuada and Elva all came to stand near the rock, curious to hear what Hölgeron had managed to find. Jeod still scrutinized the strange depression below the 'dragonkey' rune, scratching his chin as he tried to decipher its meaning.

Hölgeron pointed to the depression and looked up at Fírnen, "Would you mind placing one of your claws within this groove?"

Puzzled, the green dragon looked down at his right paw for a moment, then looked at the groove below the rune again. He quickly gave Arya a quizzical glance, who nodded at him in turn. With Arya's reassurance, he lifted his large right paw and inserted his index claw within the groove, startling Jeod who had leaned forward for a closer inspection.

Silence fell; no one dared to breath. The only sounds were those of birds chirping and singing in the distance, dogs barking somewhere within the village, and drunken laughter coming from the village tavern.

 _Is something supposed to-_ Fírnen began to ask, but was cut short when the 'dragonkey' rune suddenly began to radiate light. It was not a blinding light, but it was a very noticeable light the rune produced that all eyes present were able to see in the light of the midday summer sun.

Suddenly, a great whooshing sound could be heard above them. All heads turned towards the tunnel opening within the cliff face, just as a jet of cyan flames burst forth into the open air. Jeod let out a cry of surprise; Nasuada took a step back with a frightened look on her face and placed her left hand over her breast; Elva raised her hand to shield her face from the wave of heat she expected, but no heat ever came; Arya and Hölgeron both had looks of awe on their faces as they beheld the great flames; and Roran only watched with his mouth slightly open. Fírnen on the other hand remained rather calm while gazing up at the great jet of flames.

A minute passed before the cyan flames finally died down. When the flames had at last extinguished, there was no trace of smoke in the air and a light blue glow filled the tunnel opening.

Roran looked back at everyone around him. Besides Fírnen who had at that point glanced down at Roran, they all still gaped at the tunnel. Without a word, he jogged over to the flimsy ladder leading up to the tunnel, and took a firm grip on one of the wooden footholds.

Nasuada saw him begin to ascend the ladder and shouted, "Roran, don't! It might still not be safe!" But Roran paid no head to her call of concern, for he was already a third of the way up the two story ladder.

He quickly made his way up, eager to discover what was inside the tunnel. His right foot missed a foothold twice as he neared the top of the ladder.

As Nasuada watched Roran's ascent with concern, a female voice spoke from behind Arya, "Still the hard-headed fool he's always been, I see."

All heads turned to see who had spoken. It was Angela. The werecat Solembum, in his cat form, was with her as well, emerging from behind Angela's ankle-low dark green blouse.

"Angela!" said Nasuada, a bit surprised by the sudden and unannounced appearance of the herbalist. "What a surprise! It's good to see you! I wasn't aware that Roran had contacted you about the discovery."

Angela tossed her curly brown hair over her left shoulder and smirked, "He didn't. I came here by my own accord after my source told me of this discovery." She looked up at the tunnel just as Roran placed his right hand on the edge of the tunnel floor.

Nasuada placed a hand on her hip, "When will you ever tell us how you and your sources find out about these things? No one except us and the whole of Oestaerya knows about this discovery."

Angela wagged a finger at Nasuada and smiled slyly, "Ah, that's where you're wrong. The news of the discovery has already spread outside of Oestaerya." She smirked again, "And what fun is there in revealing my secrets?"

Nasuada sighed upon hearing Angela's answer, "That answer does not satisfy me." When the herbalist shrugged in response, Nasuada added, "At least promise me…promise us that you will one day tell us your secrets."

Angela nodded as she glanced up towards Roran, who hadby then hoisted himself up into the tunnel, "Yes, when that day comes, I will. But it won't be anytime soon."

Solembum padded his way over to Fírnen. When he'd reached Fírnen's side, he jumped up, kicked his way up the dragons side and then into the saddle. Once in the saddle, the werecat made himself comfortable, tucking his front paws beneath his belly as he lay down and faced the cliff.

All eyes returned their focus towards Roran. Roran dusted himself off before he gazed down the length of the tunnel that extended deep into the cliff. He stared, mesmerized by the glowing runes and glyphs that lined the walls of the tunnel.

"Roran," Angela called up to him, "care to share with us what you see?"

But Roran did not hear her. Instead, he slowly walked deeper into the tunnel, disappearing from everyone's view.

"I guess that means it's safe to go up," said Nasuada. She turned her head towards Arya and Hölgeron, "If you are going up, tell me what you find."

Arya nodded and then she and Hölgeron started towards the ladder. Before Arya reached the ladder, however, Angela reached out and grabbed the ropes of the ladder. She looked to Arya and smiled, "Better if I went first. Wouldn't want anything to happen to the queen of the elves now, would we?" Arya opened her mouth to object, but instead she kept her tongue and smiled. With that, Angela turned and quickly ascended the ladder with surprising ease.

"Nasuada," said Jeod, "you're not going in yourself?"

Nasuada shook her head, "No, I would rather stay safe. Like Roran said, we're probably dealing with something far more ancient than the ancient language. Who knows what kind of dangers might be inside."

"Then I trust you will allow me to go with the elves," Jeod stated with a somewhat pleading look. "I do not wish to miss out on such a rare opportunity."

"You may," Nasuada replied with a subtle nod of her head, "although this rare opportunity will not be going anywhere, I must say." Jeod grinned and thanked her before hurrying off to join Arya and Hölgeron.

"I will go too," Elva said as she followed after Jeod. Angela had already climbed into the tunnel by then, peering over the edge and signaling for Arya and Hölgeron to begin climbing up. Arya allowed Hölgeron to go before her.

 _I still do not understand the fascination behind ancient ruins,_ Fírnen said to both Nasuada and Solembum while he watched. _True, I have knowledge of something that neither I nor any of us have ever heard of before, but how is that less interesting than a hole in the rock?_ The green dragon lay down on the gravel. Hölgeron had reached the top of the ladder, and Arya began her quick and nimble ascent.

 _You're not alone,_ Solembum replied as he yawned, showing his long white fangs.

Nasuada let out a soft giggle as she walked over and leaned against Fírnen's side, "Humans have a natural curiosity of the old and unknown. As do elves. Both humans and elves have a need to discover their origins, to find out where and when they both started life in this world. It's written in our blood."

By then, Arya was climbing into the tunnel, and Jeod allowed Elva to go first. A fairly strong breeze rolled through, causing the ladder to sway as Elva reached the halfway point. Jeod took hold of the bottom of the ladder to hold it steady, allowing Elva to continue her ascent.

The strong breeze also stirred the hanging locks of Nasuada's long hair, which was tied in a bundle on the back of her head. Seeing the locks swaying from side to side, Solembum pricked his ears forward and rolled onto his side in Fírnen's saddle. He twisted his head until his chin pointed up to the sky, then batted at Nasuada's hanging locks with one paw.

 _But what drives humans and elves to discover their beginnings?_ Solembum asked as he took another swat at Nasuada's swaying hair. _Can they not be satisfied with what they already know? That humans and elves came to Alagaësia a very long time ago?_ He quickly swiped at her hair a few more times.

Nasuada looked up at Solembum over her right shoulder. The werecat gave her an innocent look and purred, closing his eyes to show his content. "It's not that simple. Humans and elves both came from another land. Where that land is, and how long they both have lived there before travelling to Alagaësia, no one knows. It's that lack of knowledge that drives us to discover our origins and history of our ancient ancestors."

She turned her head again and looked up at Fírnen this time, "Just like your lack of knowledge of these Drëkøn people. You know their language somehow, but you don't know how you know it, and so you feel the need to discover who the Drëkøn are in order to find out the origin of this strange knowledge."

Fírnen responded with a snort as he looked away, _As if you know what my desires are._

Nasuada smiled at his statement and turned her gaze back up to the tunnel. Elva had reached the top of the ladder, but was hesitant of releasing her hold on it. Arya extended her hand down to her, but she hesitated to take Arya's hand as well. She glanced down over her shoulder at the ground below. It was a long drop from where she was.

Not wanting to fall, she looked back up, and with a nervous yelp, she let go of the wooden foothold with her right hand and quickly reached up towards Arya. Arya grasped Elva by her wrist firmly, hoisted her up into the tunnel with relative ease and gently set her feet on the floor.

Jeod then placed his foot on the ladder to begin his climb up. But he stopped when he heard Horst shouting, "Wait! Hold for a moment!"

The big burly man came jogging up another crude path to the cleared area. In his left hand, he held Roran's hammer. He slowed down to a brisk walk as he approached Jeod. He extended his arm out and gave the hammer to Jeod, "Katrina felt he would need this today. Wouldn't want Roran Stronghammer to be without a hammer now, would we?"

"No, we wouldn't," Jeod replied as he accepted Roran's hammer. "I'm sure he won't have need of it, but I'll give it to him nonetheless." He tucked the handle of the hammer under his belt, then turned and began the two story climb.

"Thanks," Horst said as he stepped back to watch Jeod.

A few minutes passed by before Jeod finally reached the top of the ladder. Arya reached down and offered her hand. He took hold of it, and stepped up the few remaining footholds as she helped him into the tunnel.

From down below, Horst called up to them, cupping his hands around his mouth, "Oi! You lot better come back out of there alive, you hear? And I mean all of you!"

ͼͽ

The ceiling was high enough for a person of six feet in height to walk comfortably upright, but the width of the tunnel restricted them to walking in single-file. It was only wide enough that Roran's shoulders did not brush against the walls of the tunnel. As soon as he took his hammer from Angela, he turned and set off down the tunnel. The rest of the group followed after him.

"I wonder what these runes read," Jeod said, glancing left and right at the glowing runes.

"They tell of the entire history of the Drëkøn," Arya answered from in front of him.

"How do you know that?"

Arya kept her gaze forward, "Fírnen is reading them through my eyes."

Jeod had to digest her answer for a moment before he seemed to remember what he knew of dragons and their Riders. "Ah, right. I had forgotten that you two can do that."

Angela looked over Roran's shoulder to see down the length of the tunnel, "I hope this isn't going to go on forever into the bowels of the earth."

"We'll know until we reach the end of the tunnel," Roran replied over his shoulder.

Angela frowned at Roran's answer, but did not say anything.

"We should reach the end soon," Elva called down the tunnel to Roran. "I think there's something blocking the passage. Roran, whatever you do, you cannot touch it. None of us except Arya may touch it." Roran stopped upon hearing that. Hölgeron turned and glanced down at Elva, giving her a questioning look with a raised eyebrow.

Arya looked at the back of Elva's head, which was faintly illuminated by the cyan light the runes on the walls radiated, "Why me? What would happen if anyone else touched it?"

Elva was silent for a moment as she concentrated on what her foresight was telling her. Then she answered, "Because if anyone else touches it…we will all die."

"All of us?" Jeod asked nervously. But Elva did not respond.

"Wonderful," said Roran as he resumed walking down the length of the tunnel.

Eventually, they came upon the obstruction that Elva had warned Roran of. Much to his relief, the immediate area in front of the obstruction opened into a small bowl shape, allowing all six of them to stand tightly together. Unlike the walls of the tunnel, there were no glowing runes and glyphs on the walls of this bowl.

It was dark within the tight space, prompting Hölgeron to conjure up a werelight.

The floor, walls and ceiling were all molded seamlessly together. The floor curved upwards smoothly so that it flowed upwards to become the walls. The walls in turn curved back smoothly as well until they had become the ceiling. The floor, walls and ceiling showed no signs of tool marks, indicating that the bowl had been molded by magic.

Angela, Hölgeron and Elva shifted around until Arya stood next to Roran. The werelight moved over Arya's head until it was just above and in front of her, casting a large dark shadow from her head on the wall directly behind her. She leaned closer to the obstruction to scrutinize its surface.

It was a stone slab, perfectly smooth with not a single blemish or mark. Where the stone, walls, floor and ceiling met there was a minute gap between them, indicating that the stone was able to move. In the very center of the stone, was what looked to be an imprint of a four-fingered hand tipped with claws at the end of each finger. In the center of the imprint was the distinct shape of the gedwëy ignasia.

"Elva is right," Arya stated upon seeing the hand imprint, "only I may touch the rock. The lock on this stone slab is specifically designed for a Rider to open."

"Well," Jeod said as he fidgeted impatiently, "what are you waiting for? Open it already!"

Arya glanced a Roran, who nodded. "Don't worry, I'll be right behind you," he said.

With that, she turned her eyes back to the hand imprint, lifted her right hand up and reached for the imprint. She hesitated for a moment however; for some reason, there was a very strange feeling at the back of her mind, as if someone were crawling through her thoughts and memories. But with a shake of her head, she placed her palm on the stone when she'd dispelled whatever had troubled her. The surface of the stone was frigid, as if it had been sitting out in the cold of a Palancar Valley winter.

Cyan light pulsed three times beneath her palm before the light radiated out across the surface of the stone in a circle. In less than a second the whole surface of the stone slab was pulsating with cyan light.

Then, the light faded.

Arya kept her palm on the cold stone, unsure of what had just happened or if there was something else she needed to do or say. The whole while, the strange feeling that something or someone was crawling through her thoughts and memories persisted. She closed off her mind to everyone around her except Fírnen. But still the feeling persisted, making her uncomfortable. She glanced at Hölgeron, who also seemed just as uncomfortable as her.

They waited for a few minutes, expecting something to happen. But when nothing happened, Angela spoke up, "Well, that was exciting. Seems whatever was supposed to happen, didn't happen. Looks like we came here to this cramped tunnel for no rea-"

She was stopped midsentence when a distant, deep boom could be heard all around them. A series of smaller, yet still deep booms could be heard after that, albeit much closer. The stone floor beneath them vibrated with each of the booms; it was almost as if a chain reaction of magical explosions had been triggered.

"What's that?" Jeod asked in fright as he glanced about him frantically, his eyes visibly wide with fear.

Arya removed her hand from the surface of the stone slab when the floor, walls, ceiling and even the air vibrated tremendously. A single deep boom sounded all around them, and then a great deep growl, along with another series of small deep booms, could be heard from somewhere above them. It was as if a very large and heavy object were being dragged across the surface of another very large and heavy object. Arya furrowed her eyebrows and grimaced slightly as her eardrums vibrated almost painfully from the great heavy vibration in the air.

Outside of the tunnel, Nasuada looked frantically around her as the ground beneath her feet shook violently. "What's going on?"

 _An earthquake?_ Solembum asked as he flattened his ears against his head. His pupils dilated as he swiveled his head to look behind him when he heard shouts. A group of workers were down on the ground with their knees bent to steady themselves as the ground shook.

 _I did not think there were ever earthquakes in Alagaësia,_ said Fírnen as he let out a hiss, his pupils narrowing while he stared up at the tunnel opening.

"They rarely ever occur," Nasuada said as she placed a hand on Fírnen's side to keep herself upright. She looked up at the tunnel opening and thought to herself, _What on earth are they doing in there?_

Inside the tunnel, a great groan emanated from the very rock itself all around them. It was a noise like none of them had ever heard before; as if some huge, primeval and ancient entity had awoken from its ancient slumber and let out a deep guttural groan as it stretched its ancient bones.

Suddenly, the stone slab in front of Arya shifted. A great curtain of dust and sand fell from the seam where the ceiling and stone met, choking the air with dust as it billowed up around their feet. As everyone covered their noses with some part of their clothing, the stone slab began to tremble slightly as it slowly rose up into the rock. All the while more dust and sand fell from the seam, filling the bowl with more choking dust.

For five more bone shaking minutes, the stone slab rose up into an unseen space above in the rock. The whole of the rock around them trembled and groaned as the slab rose, while more nearby deep booms frequently jarred the floor.

Finally, the bottom of the stone slab reached the top of the seam and stopped abruptly with a loud boom. The groaning of the rock and the series of small booms around them continued for a few more brief seconds afterwards before all went silent, and the rock around them ceased quieted down.

With a wave of her hand, Angela rid the bowl of the choking dust and fresh air filled the space once more.

"Glad that's over with," Jeod muttered under his breath.

"I feel as if I were at the very heart of an earthquake," Roran said with a shaky voice. Although the rock had already stopped trembling, he still felt his bones shaking and trembling from the experience, and his teeth chattered inside his head.

"Well," Angela said while dusting herself off, "that was very dramatic. Never had that kind of experience opening a door." She finished brushing the dust off of her light cloak and then turned her gaze into the darkness ahead of her.

All eyes turned to the darkness ahead as well. Beyond the opening that was previously hidden behind the stone slab with the gedwëy ignasia on it, stairs descended downwards into the perpetual darkness. The tunnel seemed to widen greatly beyond the point of the opening.

"So," Angela said as she glanced from Roran, the elves and then to Jeod, "who is going to take the first step into the abyss?"

ͼͽ

Roran stepped into the darkness of the wide stairwell. The werelight that Hölgeron had cast followed after him, floating just behind and above his head. He placed his hand on the head of his hammer, anxiety gripping him as he slowly descended into the darkness with each step. He dared not to breath loudly, but the jarring experience he had just gone through made it difficult for him to breath calmly since his heart raced madly.

Arya appeared by his side, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Glancing at her, Roran could tell from the way her eyes darted from left to right that she was expecting something to leap out at them from the darkness.

Hölgeron and Angela were right behind them, followed by Elva and Jeod.

No one spoke a word during the whole of their descent. The only sounds that could be heard were the scuffles their boots made against the dusty surface of the steps, and the echoes they produced. For ten, tense minutes they descended down into darkness, side by side and completely silent.

As Roran neared what he assumed was the bottom of the staircase, a flicker of light coming from somewhere in front of him caught his eye. Arya seemed to notice the same thing as well, for she stopped at the same moment he did. She glanced over her shoulder at Hölgeron, who released the spell for the werelight, plunging them into total darkness.

Roran waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He blinked a few times before he could see the light that had caught his attention.

The faint blue light seemed to be shimmering on the floor at the bottom of the stairwell, like the reflection cast off by the suns light on the surface of a lake or the ocean.

Arya continued down the stairs again, as did Roran and the others. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she and Roran hugged the walls to stay in the shadows. Hölgeron, Angela, Elva and Jeod remained in the shadows on the stairs. Roran hugged the wall on the left while Arya hugged the wall on the right and together they slowly shuffled their way to the opening a few feet ahead of them.

The entire opening was lit up by the blue shimmering light that was coming from somewhere within the room it led into.

Roran reached the edge of the opening first, and peered inside the surprisingly large room. Like the bowl that he and the others had entered from, the floor, walls and ceiling were all joined together smoothly. He could see the dark openings of other tunnels leading in different directions out of the large room. The ceiling rose about fifty feet from the floor of the room. A single, rather large stalactite reached down from the very center of the ceiling to merge with the floor, breaking the otherwise smooth flowing curvature of the rest of the room.

As Arya peered around the edge of the tunnel opening, Roran looked towards the center of the room again, just below the stalactite. He couldn't exactly make out what he saw, but he could see what appeared to be three circular basins that rose up to about knee height from the stone floor. The formations were arranged in a triangular shape, each spaced a few feet from each other. The blue shimmering light seemed to come from the circle to Roran's left.

In the space formed by the triangular shape of the circles, where the massive stalactite merged with the floor, he thought he saw something distinct within the mineralized stone column.

"Roran," Arya whispered, "do you see that? In the column."

Roran nodded in response. He could not quite make out what he saw within the stone, but he could see something…seemingly organic to its shape. "I'm going in to get a better look," he said.

"By yourself?" asked Angela as she appeared by his side. He had not even heard her approach.

He glanced at her for a moment, but didn't say anything. Then he turned to Elva, whose face was half obscured by shadows. The mark on her forehead seemed to glow in the faint blue light of the inner room. "Is there anything that will cause our deaths?" Roran asked.

Elva immediately shook her head, but furrowed her eyebrows to show her confusion, "No. I can't even sense any magic."

Roran looked back towards Angela, who was trying to make out the distinct shape in the stalactite column, "I go first. If nothing happens to me," he moved his eyes over to Arya, "then the rest of you can follow."

Arya turned her attention to him, _He puts his friends' lives before his own,_ she said in her mind, intending for Fírnen to hear. _He concerns himself too much with our well-being, rather than his own._

 _He values the lives of his comrades,_ Fírnen replied. _Or…he is overconfident._

Arya smirked at Fírnen's remark and watched as Roran gained his composure before venturing out from the shadows, _Not Roran. He is not the kind to be overconfident. But he does have a strong will to protect his friends. That much I can say with certainty._ He stepped out of the shadows and into the shimmering light of the room. As he passed through the opening, he pulled his hammer free from his belt.

He shuffled his left foot forward carefully, testing the floor for any magical traps that might have been embedded into the very stone itself. When nothing happened, Roran sighed with relief, not realizing that he had been holding his breath. Slowly, he walked out towards the center of the room, testing every inch of the solid stone floor with the toes of his boots.

When he'd reached the circular basin on the right, he peered down to see that it was filled with rocky soil. In the very center, resting on the rocky soil was a large round stone about the size of his head.

He turned to glance over his right shoulder, and signaled for the others to follow. It was then that he realized he was sweating. He reached up and wiped the droplets of sweat from his brow. It was very warm within the room. He had not noticed the change in temperature at all, for it had been very cold within the tunnel.

Angela and Arya reached Roran before the others; Arya still held her hand on the hilt of her sword. The two of them peered down at the large round stone in the center of the basin. Hölgeron, however, had seen something that caught his interest and walked away from the others. Jeod followed him as well, while Elva stood at the edge of the basin where the blue shimmering light came from. The witch-child's face became illuminated by the rippling light that came from within, and her eyes seemed to grow wide with amazement.

"What do you think it is?" Roran asked as Arya knelt down and inspected the large round stone more closely.

"It looks much like a stone," Arya replied and then paused.

"Well, thank you for pointing out the obvious," said Angela, taking advantage of Arya's pause.

"But it is not a stone," Arya continued as if she hadn't heard the herbalist. "It's an egg."

"Say what?" Angela asked as she raised her eyebrows high. "An egg? An egg of what?"

"Fanghur," Arya answered almost immediately. "I've only seen a Fanghur egg once in my life, and this looks exactly like what I saw."

"But…we're not in the Beor Mountains," Roran stated as he looked curiously at the stone-like egg. Its surface was very smooth, save for a few faint raised vein-like marks that covered parts of its surface. Other than that, it resembled any ordinary stone. He concluded that its close resemblance to a stone was an evolutionary trait to help the Fanghur survive in the wild. "Why is it here?"

Arya only shook her head in response and furrow her eyebrows, unable to answer his question.

Angela finally took notice of the temperature in the room. "When did it get unbearably warm in here?" she asked, taking out a handkerchief from her cloak and wiping her brow and temple.

"Arya," Elva said from behind Angela, still looking down into the circle she stood next to, "I think you need to see this as well."

Roran, Arya and Angela stepped over to the adjacent circle; their faces too became illuminated by the rippling light coming from within the basin as they peered down into it.

"It's…water," said Angela. She leaned forward and dipped her right index finger into the rippling water, which seemed to emit its own light and tasted the water clinging to her finger. "Freshwater."

"But look at that," Elva said, pointing to a small orb within the shallow circular pool of water.

The small orb was no larger than Roran's fist. As he studied it carefully, he realized that the light was not being emitted by the water, but rather by the orb itself. A glowing wave-like band encircled the whole of the orb where it met the water. Smaller glowing vein-like structures stretched out over the darker portions of the orb from the glowing band.

"Don't tell me this is also an egg," Angela said as she bent forward and placed her hands on the curved edge of the circular stone pool. She glanced up at Arya, waiting for a response from the elf queen.

After a few minutes of silence, Arya nodded her head, "It is." She furrowed her eyebrows, however, seemingly unsure of her own answer.

Roran noticed the stumped look on her face, and glanced from her to the small orb and back, "But you're not entirely sure about what it is an egg of, right?"

She shook her head in response, "No, I know what it is…but the fact that it is in freshwater is what seems off about it." She blinked twice, then turned her gaze to Roran and Angela, "Have you ever heard of the Nïdhwal?"

Roran returned his gaze back to the orb in the water, his eyes wide with surprise. Angela looked up at Arya in disbelief, "That's impossible! Nïdhwal's only live in the ocean. This is freshwater."

"I am aware of that," said Arya, "that is why I'm not entirely sure that it is the egg of a Nïdhwal."

"Then what could it be of?" Elva asked, still marveling at the glowing veins of the suspicious egg.

Roran looked to his left, passed the mineralized stone column to the other circular basin. Suddenly, it hit him, "We may not know if this is really the egg of a Nïdhwal, but we know for certain that these are both eggs." He looked at Arya, who was giving him a quizzical look, "And we all know that both the Fanghur and Nïdhwal are cousins of the dragon."

After a moment, Arya seemed to realize what he was implying. Her eyes moved to the third circular formation behind the column as she recalled what Fírnen had recited from the stone cover outside the tunnel, " _'Descendants of the mightiest of the sky, companions of the mightiest of the waters and overseers of the mightiest of the lands.'_ If both of these are here, then that means…" She let her sentence trail off as she stepped around Elva and made her way passed the freshwater basin to the third circular basin, with Roran right behind her.

As Angela stepped between the circular pool and the column to follow, she finally noticed the patterns in the surface of the mineralized stone. She stopped to inspect it more closely. She instantly recognized the distinct shape of a man's forearm. However, instead of a smooth surface like that of skin, she made out the distinct pattern of scales. She stepped back to stand in between the basins with the Fanghur and Nïdhwal eggs and faced the column.

She looked down to where the column met the floor. Rather than the wavy and irregular formations normally associated with the meeting of a stalactite and the floor of a cave, the stone was shaped to resemble legs, albeit legs much more animalistic than human. The feet resembled those of a dragons hind paws, with three clawed toes on each foot. A smaller, fourth clawed toe was also present, slightly higher up on the foot than the other toes.

Looking up, Angela expected to see a head. Instead, the flowing folds of the mineralized stone covered where the head would have been. The flowing folds of the stalactite also flowed over the shoulders. She returned her focus to the body of what she believed was a statue of a man with very reptilian characteristics. Like the rest of the body, she distinguished scales covering the torso and chest of the statue.

 _Whoever molded this statue paid a lot of attention to detail_ , she thought to herself as she admired the craftsmanship of the statue.

"I knew it," she heard Roran's voice exclaim from somewhere behind the column, "it is a dragon egg!"

Then Angela noticed something protruding from the center of the statues chest just above its crossed arms, something that reflected the shimmering light from the circular pool. She glanced toward Roran and Arya; they were pouring all their attention over the dragon egg they had just discovered.

Then she glanced over at Jeod and Hölgeron, who were curiously inspecting what looked to her like very large and horizontal black depressions in the walls of the room. She had noticed the black depressions in the walls earlier herself; five in a stack between each doorway from the floor to just below the tall arched doorways. Elva was still mesmerized by the Nïdhwal egg.

 _Guess I'll just inspect this myself_ , Angela thought to herself as she took a step closer to the statue. The object seemed deeply embedded within the center of the statues chest, exactly where the sternum was. The object glinted as the shimmering light from the pool passed over its surface once more, and she realized that it was a crystal she was looking at.

But there was something curious about the gem that Angela could not quite put her finger on. She had to get closer to it; something told her to touch it.

Cautiously, she reached up and gingerly touched one of the uneven surfaces of the gem with the tip of her index finger. To her surprise, the gem was very warm, as if it had been sitting in a bed of cooling embers.

Suddenly, she felt electricity running through her body, and an instant later small blue arcs of lighting sprung up from the gem and jumped across the surface of the statue. Angela jumped back, holding her finger as if someone had just slammed a heavy book shut on it. It hadn't hurt hurt her however, but the shock she received had been enough to startle her and cause her to gasp loudly. She watched as the small arcs of electricity bounced their way up the column to the ceiling and down the statue to the floor.

Hearing Angela's gasp, Roran and Arya turned to see what had happened. Jeod, Hölgeron and Elva looked over as well. Arya and Roran raced over to stand next to Angela; Roran tightened his grip on the handle of his hammer as he watched the blue lighting travel in bouncing arcs across the ceiling.

"Are you alright?" Arya asked. She reached out for Angela's hand to make sure she was not injured.

"Of course I'm alright!" Angela snapped back, pulling her hand away from Arya's outstretched hand. "A little shock won't harm me."

Jeod and Hölgeron watched the arcs of electricity quickly bounce around the entire surface of the rooms ceiling and floor. Jeod watched the arcs on the ceiling make their way down the walls while Hölgeron watched them pass by their feet and up the walls.

"What kind of magic is this?" Jeod asked out loud as the arcs from the ceiling merged with the arcs from the floor. No sooner had they made contact, the blue arcs of lightning seemed to faze into the very rock itself.

As soon as the arcs disappeared, the strange black horizontal hollows in the rock walls suddenly became lit up by runes within the hollow.

"Aha!" Jeod exclaimed as he rushed back to one of the illuminated hollows in the wall, "I knew this was made of crystal!" He tapped the face of the glass like crystal that sat in what had just been a black hollow.

The crystal glowed with blue light from the runes on the inside of the hollow, illuminating imperfections and bubbles of air in the crystal. But that was not all that was inside the hollow.

Hölgeron stepped beside Jeod. "It's a tomb," Hölgeron stated as he bent forward and placed his hands on his knees to peer inside the crystal. "These are all makeshift graves," he said. Jeod looked around the room, counting at least forty more of the crystal encased depressions.

Encased within the crystal Hölgeron stared into…was what appeared to be a man with very reptilian characteristics. The head of the figure was what caught him off guard; it was the head of a dragon.

" _'We are born of the dragon,'_ " he recited what Fírnen had translated for them from the runes of the stone cover outside the tunnel.

Jeod bent forward to peer inside the crystal as well, "Unbelievable…I didn't think it literally meant 'born of the dragon.'" He was speechless for a while as he studied the features of the dragon-human-like creature. Then he found his voice again, "So…this is what a Drëkøn looks like."

Roran held his hammer ready to do battle with whatever might appear before them. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw Arya and Angela staring straight ahead of him. His instincts suddenly told him that something or someone was directly in front of him.

Snapping his head back towards the center of the room, towards the stalactite column, his eyes widened with disbelief.

The statue was melting away. Rather, the stone of what he thought was a statue was melting. Where the stone melted away completely, he could see real scales.

Within a matter of minutes, the stone melted away to reveal organic feet, legs and lower torso.

"It wasn't a statue," he heard Angela say in awe. "The stone only covered the…" Her words faded as she looked on in awe.

"It only covered the real thing," Arya said as she appeared by Roran's side, sword in hand. "The stone was encasing a real Drëkøn."

Jeod, Hölgeron and Elva all rushed over and stood by Angela, intent on watching while being safe near friends.

Suddenly, a very deep masculine and powerful voice spoke in their minds at once, _Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya._

Roran could not help but cringe and grit his teeth as the voice seemed to resonate inside his mind. It was like a clap of thunder that echoed throughout a mountain valley. When the voice fell silent, he glanced at Arya who also cringed as the voice spoke. "Does Fírnen know what it said?" he asked as he kept one eye on the Drëkøn as more and more of the stone that encased it melted away from its reptilian body.

Arya was silent for a moment, listening as Fírnen translated the alien words for her. Then, she recited the translation, " _'No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.'_ "

Roran turned his wide eyed gaze back to the Drëkøn. All of the stone that had encased its body had already melted away and fallen to the floor in a puddle of viscous, glowing molten rock around the dragon-like feet of the Drëkøn. "How does it know our names?"

That's when the flowing folds of the stalactite that covered the Drëkøn's head began to shift like the many writhing bodies of a mass of snakes. The Drëkøn unfolded its arms, and lifted its right foot, and stepped into the puddle of molten rock. Slowly, Roran saw something emerge from the writhing folds of the stalactite; scales, and teeth.

Jeod gasped from somewhere behind Roran, "It's alive!"

First, nostrils emerged from the stalactite, then a snout. Gradually, an entire head emerged from the stone…the head of a dragon. The Drëkøn stepped forward with its left foot, and the rest of its head slid out from the writhing folds of stone. No sooner had the Drëkøn's horns exited the stone, the folds of the stalactite stopped moving.

Everyone stood and stared with shock, awe, and wonder at the living Drëkøn. It was a sight to see.

It had the feet, legs and head of a dragon, yet it stood on two legs and possessed the body of a muscular man. The scales covering much of its body were many shades of dark and light green colors, while the scales on the underside of its lower jaw and down its torso were all a very light green, almost tan color. A pair of large horns protruded from the top of its skull, just behind its eye sockets, while much smaller horns adorned the back of its jaw line.

The Drëkøn took a deep breath through its nostrils, then exhaled, and opened its eyes as it released its breath. Its very dragon-like sky blue eyes immediately fell upon Roran and Arya…and then it spoke in a very deep, powerful and masculine voice.

"I know your names because I must," the Drëkøn stated firmly. "I am Ŝtanin, The Rider Forgotten By Time…and I have been waiting sixty-five hundred years for you Roran Stronghammer, Earl of Palancar Valley and Argetlam Arya, Queen of the Elves."

****

**Ä**

****

**End of Chapter 2**

* * *

**Pronunciation of Names:**  
 **Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh**  
 **Athgar: AUTH-gar**  
 **Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm**  
 **Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall**  
 **Drëkøn: dreh-KEN**  
 **Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon**  
 **Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn**  
 **Fírnen: FEER-nin**  
 **Flarolth: fla-roll-th**  
 **Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks**  
 **Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on**  
 **Irethil: EAR-uh-thill**  
 **Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh**  
 **Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah**  
 **Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah**  
 **Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh**  
 **Ŝtanin: STAN-in**  
 **Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)**

The language of the **Drëkøn:**  
 **Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **5/4/14: For those of you who have been reading this story, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, cause I definitely had a lot of fun writing it two years ago. Hope you guys enjoyed the deepening of this ancient mystery that Roran and the gang have stumbled upon. Let me know what you think of it! Tell me what you liked or didn't like about this chapter, because I'm always looking to improve my skills as a writer, despite writing for close to 10 years now. I still consider myself a novice writer, so help me out by giving me your thoughts and opinions of it thus far please!**


	3. The Draconian Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By: Filip Lesiczka
> 
> This story was written by Filip Lesiczka. Please do not reproduce or distribute without permission.
> 
> This story is in no way affiliated with Christopher Paolini, the Inheritance Cycle or Alfred A. Knopf. This is a fan fiction. No part of this story is associated with the happenings and events of the Inheritance Cycle. This is just my version of a continuation to the story that Christopher Paolini has completed. I am only providing answers for myself, and so many other fans who feel justice hasn't been served for an amazing series of books. All names and characters mentioned in the Inheritance Cycle are copyrighted to Christopher Paolini and Knopf. **No copyright infringement is intended in this story.** I own only the names and characters that I have created for this story. Again this is only a fan fiction, and I aim to only provide entertainment for myself and many fans, as well as closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Work on this chapter originally began on 4/21/12.**   
> **Chapter was originally published on FF on 4/25/12.**

* * *

Roran and Arya glanced at one another, unsure of how to respond to the ancient creatures words.

As he gaped at the Drëkøn, Roran took the time to study the Drëkøn named Ŝtanin more carefully. He noticed that there were leather straps that wrapped around the Drëkøn's shoulders and under his armpits. Roran concluded that these leather straps were most likely used to hold the rather large white greatsword that hung from Drëkøn's back, which he estimated the blade alone was at least five and a half feet in length.

The only other garment Roran could identify on the Drëkøn was a pair of tight and short cloth pants that ended just above the knees. Roran assumed it was made of cloth, but in the blue light that illuminated the room, it was hard to tell.

As Roran looked up again to study the Drëkøn's features, he could hardly guess how old the ancient being really was. He had seen Glaedr before he died, but Roran had been able to tell that the gold dragon had seen many years in his lifetime. But Ŝtanin appeared to be just as young as Fírnen.

The only things Roran could see that indicated that the Drëkøn had seen many years of experience were three large parallel scars marking his face. The scars began next left horn several inches behind his left eye, and traveled down the length of his muzzle at a diagonal angle over his left eye before tapering out just below his bottom lip at the end of his muzzle.

However, there were two larger scars; longer than Roran's arms and about as wide as his outstretched hands. The top most scar started just below the Drëkøn's right collarbone and down his torso ending just below his left pectoral muscle. The lower scar started on the right side of the Drëkøn's ribcage and ran parallel to the upper scar before disappearing underneath the waistline of the pants Ŝtanin wore, perhaps ending just below his left hip.

Angela finally spoke first, "So…you've been waiting for thousands of years…for these two alone? Come now, you couldn't have been waiting that long in a stone prison for a revered warrior and a queen of the elves. There has to more to it."

Ŝtanin moved his large eyes from Arya, to Roran, then to Angela, "No, not these two alone. I have also been waiting for the one…whose past is shrouded in a fog of mystery. The one who's past that not even her comrades know about."

Roran cast a glance over his shoulder at Angela and Elva shot a look up at her as well. All eyes except Arya's were on the herbalist.

"You seem to have put me in the spotlight," Angela said as she shifted her weight from her left leg to her right. "What do you need me for?"

The Drëkøn blinked once before answering, "That, I shall explain in due time." His eyes fell upon Roran and Arya again, "First, I must assure you that I am not your enemy. I have not been waiting all these centuries just so that I may attack you."

Roran hesitated at first, fidgeting as he decided whether to tuck his hammer back under his belt, or remain on guard. When he heard Arya sheath her sword, however, he did the same, and returned the handle of his hammer under his belt.

Ŝtanin smiled, the corners of his mouth angling upwards much like a human would do when they smile, and this was much to everyone's surprise. "Good, now we have taken the first step in tying the bonds of our trust with one another. Now, I will tell you that from this day forward, four of you shall walk the path that destiny has set before your feet."

The ancient Drëkøn turned and walked towards the crystal encasements that held the bodies of other Drëkøn, which Jeod and Hölgeron had been peering into not long ago. He beckoned for them to follow him as he flicked his long tail behind him, which was lined with small spines from the base of his tail and ended just a few inches from the tip of his tail.

"However," Ŝtanin said as he led them on, the last three feet of his white greatsword hanging at a downward angle on his left side and bouncing back and forth with each step, "in order for you to begin walking your separate paths, you must first learn of who I am, who my people were, and of what significance we were and are to your world to this day."

"So, does that mean you are going to tell us the history of you and your people?" Jeod asked with anticipation.

Ŝtanin turned his head to look at Jeod over his left shoulder, "Not exactly. Only four of you will be granted knowledge of the Drëkøn. The knowledge you are granted will aid you on your journeys'." His brilliant sky blue eye flicked over to Angela, "And I assure you, Angela. All of your questions will be answered in due time. I only ask that you bear with me." He stopped before the set of crystal encasements Jeod and Hölgeron had been inspecting earlier.

"How did you-?" Angela began to ask in surprise as she stopped dead in her tracks, but could not finish her question. Roran looked over his shoulder and saw a look of total surprise on her face, which for some reason did not seem to fit the herbalist at all. Then her expression grew more serious, "You managed to slip by my mental wards, something not even Elva could manage. How did you do that so easily?"

The old Drëkøn spoke, but did not turn to face her, "The magic of the Ancient language is unique in and of itself. But, it cannot compare to the magic that the Tøvrí, the Caretakers used, nor can it compare its uniqueness to that of the magic of the Drëkøn." Then he turned and faced them.

Arya had been studying his muzzle very carefully for any signs that would indicate what kind of personality the Drëkøn had. However, she could not glean anything from his stolid expression. But she did see one thing she was very familiar with, however; the spirit of a dragon. Other than that, he hid his emotions very well, perhaps much better than any elf was capable of.

Ŝtanin indicated with his right hand to the crystal encasement directly behind him, which was at eye level with everyone except Elva, despite how much she had grown. "This…is Vrínjäø. The oldest of the Tøvrí." Ŝtanin looked over his shoulder down into the crystal encasement for a moment, "She was the only one of us who had the ability to store the entire history and all knowledge of the Drëkøn within her mind." He returned his gaze back up to the six standing before him, "She will teach you individually the knowledge you need to embark on your separate journeys."

For a moment, no one spoke. No one was sure how they would learn anything from a long dead being.

Angela finally broke the silence with a slight laugh as she scoffed, "Well, it's good to know that she has all of the knowledge of your people locked away in her head…but I don't know if you know that since she is…dead, then she cannot speak."

Ŝtanin looked at her with his blank expression, but did not say anything. Instead, he hummed deeply, much like a dragon, and stepped off to the side of the crystal encasement containing the intact body of Vrínjäø.

Four different runes appeared on the wall around the crystal encasement. Two appeared in the space between Vrínjäø's encasement, and the one above it, while another two appeared in the space below her encasement and the one below it. Each glowing rune was different from the other, but they all had the distinct flowing characteristic unique to the written language of the Drëkøn.

"Each one of these runes represents your individual names in my language," Ŝtanin stated. He pointed to the two runes above Vrínjäø's encasement, "Arya and Roran, yours are on the top; yours being on the left, Roran and yours on the right, Arya." Ŝtanin indicated to the other two runes below the encasement, "Hölgeron, yours is on the right, while the left one is yours, Angela."

"What does this have anything to do with us learning from Vrínjäø?" Hölgeron asked in a polite tone, giving a miniscule smile at the ancient being.

Ŝtanin detected the anticipation and fear in the elderly elf's voice, "Your ability to conceal your emotions is rather impressive Hölgeron, considering that you are not entirely of elvish decent. Your mother taught you how to hide your human emotions very well. She and your father would be proud of who you have become."

Hölgeron's eyes widened in shock upon hearing the old Drëkøn's words. Arya cast a puzzled glance over her shoulder at the elderly elf, for she had never known that his mother had been an elf and his father a human. The fact that Ŝtanin had been able to easily invade a skilled elf's mind even with wards made Arya…uncomfortable.

"But there is nothing to fear," Ŝtanin continued, "all you must do is place your hand on the rune representing your name and Vrínjäø's knowledge will be transferred to your mind."

"You mean her knowledge will be forced into our heads?" Angela asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

Ŝtanin nodded, "If that is how you wish to put it, yes."

"Then I'm not going to put my hand on that thing," said the herbalist as she eyed the glowing rune that represented her name. She looked directly into the eyes of the Drëkøn as she spoke, "You should know by now why that is, since you seem to be able to get passed any mental ward we can put up."

Ŝtanin closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, "I had hoped you would not decline to have the necessary knowledge be transferred to your mind." He opened his eyes again, "But, since you have declined…I cannot force you to change your decision. But, know that you will have to find the path destiny has set before you…by yourself."

"Can't you just tell me what my destiny is? Or where I'm supposed to go?" the herbalist asked as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her left ear.

The old Drëkøn shook his head slowly, "That, I cannot do. Not even I know of what your destinies are. Only Vrínjäø has the obscure details of your destined paths." He held up a clawed finger as his voice grew stern, "But I will warn you. Vrínjäø was no prophet and she could not see the future nor could she have predicted your names. She only knows of your destinies thanks to an ancient prophecy that was made by the dragons themselves. I do not know where the prophecy will take the four of you…but I now know that you are the destined Four the prophecy speaks of."

"A prophecy…by the dragons?" Jeod asked, his interest growing.

Ŝtanin glanced down at the dead Drëkøn within the crystal encasement as he spoke, " _'And then, the Four shall reunite at the Place of Origin to challenge the Beast. There, the Wielder shall fight It, aided by two other warriors; one of times long since gone by, the other of times long yet to happen.'_ "

Fírnen's mind touched Arya's and she opened her mind for him. He sounded troubled as his voice spoke within her mind, _I don't know how, but I know of the prophecy he speaks of. Ask him how it is I have knowledge I have never stumbled upon!_

Before Arya could even open her mouth to ask Fírnen's question, Ŝtanin was already answering, "Fírnen has this knowledge…because it has been embedded within the blood of his ancestors, with my help."

"You're the one that gave him the knowledge then?" Arya asked.

"No," Ŝtanin answered, "I only cast the spell upon his ancestor that would release the knowledge I embedded in her blood the moment one of her descendants ventured near this tomb. I do believe you know her name as well, Fírnen. She was your great grandmother's great grandmother."

_Bedäi'tal,_ said Fírnen, intending only for Arya to hear, but Ŝtanin had obviously also been listening.

"Yes, Bedäi'tal. She was the only wild dragon whom I could entrust the knowledge of my people." Ŝtanin looked up from the crystal encasement and set his eyes upon Arya, "And thanks to my spell, the knowledge that lay dormant in your blood was able to resurface when you came close to the tomb. That is why you are all here today."

"Then you planned all this from the very beginning, didn't you?" Roran asked, finally breaking his silence, "You intended for all of us to be here."

"No, I never knew who it would be to finally unearth this tomb," Ŝtanin replied, "but yes. I had planned this to happen, all because of the prophecy."

"Which means…" Jeod began, but paused as he searched for the right words he wanted to say, "which means that they cannot escape their own fates now."

"Do keep in mind, that I am not the one who chose you," Ŝtanin replied. "It was fate itself that brought you here to realize your true purposes in this world."

Roran glanced at Arya, "And I thought I would just live out the remainder of my days in the Valley, with no more excitement to happen."

Arya nodded in agreement, "Instead, fate has decided we are to fight alongside one another again."

"Then you will allow for the necessary knowledge to be transferred to your minds?" Ŝtanin asked as Roran looked back at the Drëkøn within the crystal. Both Arya and Roran nodded at the same time. "Good, then you may place your hands on the runes representing you names," said Ŝtanin as he indicated for them to step closer to Vrínjäø's encasement.

Roran took a deep breath as he stepped closer. He was very nervous, but at the same time he felt as if he had finally discovered what he was meant to do in the world, what he had been born to do. Arya stepped next to him, and gave him a reassuring nod.

"Together?" she asked.

Roran nodded once in response, "Together." Looking up at the rune representing his name, Roran repeatedly clenched and unclenched his right hand and his heart began to race.

"Remember Roran," Ŝtanin said in a reassuring tone, "it is your choice to go on this journey. I am not forcing you to do this."

Roran quickly glanced at the six foot tall Drëkøn standing next to him before he looked back up at the rune. Without another thought, he reached his right hand up to the rune but hesitated before he placed it on the surface of the stone. However, he disregarded what had just been troubling him and placed the palm of his hand on the rune. Arya placed her right hand on the rune of her name at the same moment as Roran.

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As Eragon gently set the large horse-sized boulder on the molded rock and released the spell he had used to move it, he glanced over his left shoulder. He thought he had felt something odd only a few seconds ago, but what it was he couldn't be certain of. He thought it felt as if a needle had gently poked the back of his head with the sharp end. He had never felt such a sensation before; it was odd, but he disregarded it as nothing.

But in having glanced over his shoulder, Eragon saw what he thought was a humorous, yet beautiful sight. Saphira stood a hundred or so meters away from where he stood helping the elves build the foundation wall for the hatchery. Her head was turned back towards her left wing and she slowly moved her wings up and down, as if she were trying to remember how to fly. He was about to reach out his mind and ask her if she had forgotten how to fly when he noticed what she was looking down at.

Kaeshta sat on the ground a few meters away from Saphira, watching her intently and mimicking her wing movements; Saphira was teaching the little dragon how to fly.

Eragon smiled as he turned and sat down on the flat face of a nearby rock. Watching Saphira teach Kaeshta how to fly, he thought it was the most heartwarming of sights he had seen in a very long time.

The elderly female elf Irethil joined Eragon, standing off to his right as she quickly gulped down a few mouthfuls of water from her water skin. "A beautiful sight isn't it?" she asked as she let the water skin hang at her belt. "In all these years of my life, I never imagined I would ever again see the day when an adult dragon teaches a young dragon how to fly."

Eragon smiled as he nodded, a warm feeling forming in his gut as he watched Saphira arch her thin wing fingers downwards as she brought them down. Kaeshta did the same, "It certainly is. It's amazing how eager Kaeshta is to learn everything that Saphira knows." He laughed softly when Kaeshta jumped up and down while she flapped her small wings, "But she does learn very quickly."

"That she does," Irethil replied as she watched the little dragon prance about with each flap of her wings. "Come to think of it, this is perhaps the first time in over a century that anyone has seen a sight like this. It's hard to believe that Saphira learned everything by herself, and you as well, before Brom began teaching you both how to be Rider and dragon."

"It's hard to believe that this all started seven years ago," Eragon said as his mind wandered back to the day he discovered Saphira's egg. "Time flies by quickly when your life is occupied with many things."

"Believe me, Eragon," Irethil said as she glanced down at him, "time flows by much quicker when you are an elf. And when you are an elf, much of your life is spent being occupied by many things that ordinary humans cannot bear to even occupy themselves with."

Eragon looked up at the elderly elf, "Such as?"

Irethil turned her attention back towards Saphira and Kaeshta while still speaking directly to him, "Much of it is spent doing what you did when Oromis and Glaedr took you under their wings…meditating and training one's mind."

Eragon laughed silently for a moment before replying, "But you forget, I'm no ordinary human."

Irethil gave him a look, "I have not forgotten that you are a Dragon Rider, Eragon. I was merely implying that ordinary humans cannot tolerate our long practices of meditation and mental training."

"I see," Eragon said as he reached up and scratched the back of his head, where he felt the odd sensation of a needle poking his scalp again. He furrowed his eyebrows, genuinely puzzled by the sensation.

Irethil noticed his discomfort, "Is everything alright Eragon?"

"Huh?" Eragon said looking up at Irethil again before he realized what she was asking him, "Oh, no. It's nothing…I just…"

"Something is troubling you," Irethil said as she turned towards him while tossing her long black hair over her left shoulder, "I can see it. Something is disturbing you."

Eragon absentmindedly reached back and scratched the back of his head again, "I don't know what it is. Some sort of…odd sensation on the back of my head, like a needle pricking my scalp." He heard footsteps approaching from behind him; he turned to see Blödhgarm.

"I thought I was the only one experiencing the same sensation," Blödhgarm said as he stopped beside Eragon. "It was a very precise sensation, twice in the same spot at the base of my skull." He noticed Saphira and Kaeshta, and his eyes seemed to soften as he watched Kaeshta still hopping about.

"Yes, that is exactly what I felt," Eragon stated as he nodded. "What could it mean?" He looked up at Blödhgarm, who shrugged in response. Irethil also shrugged as well when he turned towards her. He sighed, "I guess we won't find out what it means anytime soon."

He turned his attention back towards Saphira and Kaeshta, as did Blödhgarm and Irethil. Kaeshta hopped up into the air with persistence, which seemed to pay off as she finally managed to flap her wings twice in the air before she landed back on the ground. Saphira hummed in approval.

However, the whole while Eragon felt the sudden urge to return to Alagaësia. Something had obviously happened back in his homeland. What had happened, he was not certain. He thought to himself, _I hope this strange feeling does not mean anything ill has fallen upon Roran and Arya._

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The wind howled through the alpine pines as a snowstorm blew with unrelenting force. Visibility was limited to only a few feet as large snowflakes whipped through the air. Large snowdrifts built up on the face of the pines facing towards the wind.

A lone figure trudged through the waist deep snow. The cold wind blew a flap of the figure's fur skin coat wide open, causing the figure to stop and pull the flap closer to their body before continuing through the storm.

The figure trudged through the snow for another ten minutes before the snowstorm began to gradually die down and the deep snow became shallower. Eventually, the figure emerged above the cloud line of the alpine storm. The snow there was only ankle deep, making for easier travel up the slope of the mountain they ascended. Above the clouds, there was a perfect view of many more mountain tops penetrating the top of the cloud layer, some rising higher than the mountain the figure ascended.

A few more minutes of walking and the figure reached a flight of stone stairs. As the figure began to ascend the first few steps, they stopped with their foot on the fifth step and turned to look out across the sea of fluffy white cloud tops.

It was Murtagh.

He reached up and placed his gloved right hand on the back of his head, which was covered by the fur-lined hood of his fur skin winter coat. His eyes scanned the cottony tops of the clouds and rough mountain tops as he seemed to search for something. What he was searching for, he did not know himself.

He disregarded the odd sensation he had just felt, turned and resumed ascending the stone stairs.

As he reached the top of the stairs he stopped again, and again placed his hand on the back of his head. He pulled his hood off and scratched his head where he had felt the odd sensation of being pricked by a needle. The first time he felt it, it was like a precise poke with a needle, just below the base of his skull. Again he felt the same odd sensation.

Then came the strange feeling that something or someone was calling out to him, trying to contact him. At first, he thought it was Thorn trying to make sure that he was safe, but he discarded that as he knew Thorn's mind would not cause such an odd sensation. It felt as if he were being summoned by a silent voice, telling him to do something.

_Something is happening,_ Murtagh thought to himself, but kept his mind open to Thorn. _Someone is beckoning me to return to Alagaësia._

Murtagh sensed Thorn stirring from a comfortable and long nap, _What do you mean 'someone is beckoning you'?_

Murtagh scanned the top of the cloud layer one more time very quickly before he turned and walked across the length of the snow covered courtyard. He opened one of the large doors and entered his home, which he had finished constructing only a month earlier.

As he turned to close the door, he paused and looked outside once more as he spoke to Thorn, _I can't put my finger on it...but something is pulling me back to Alagaësia. I have the feeling that I have to do something there._ And with that he pushed the door closed.

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The sun finally poked its bright face from behind the large cloud that had lumbered by an hour earlier.

Orik reveled in the suns warming rays, "It's about time that blasted cloud rolled through! First it's a storm as soon as we leave the mountains, then a cold fog for two days, and then that cloud. It's nice to finally have the sun shining and to be warm for a change."

Flarolth tried as best as he could to conceal his smirk. For the past four days, Orik's mood had been sour because of the weather, but he had not complained about it until now. But Flarolth certainly agreed with Orik; it was nice to have the sun smiling down upon them with warmth. He no longer needed Athgar to curl around his neck like a scarf to keep him warm. No sooner had the sun come out, Athgar had uncurled his tail around Flarolth's neck, and jumped down onto the saddle between Flarolth's legs. There, he tucked his front paws beneath his belly, and looked off into the distance to Flarolth's left.

"Keep this in mind Flarolth," Orik called over his shoulder from where he sat upon his small steed, "when building your home, make sure you make a great big hearth. Who knows what kind of weather occurs where you're going."

"I will keep that in mind," Flarolth responded. He fell silent for a moment as he thought of something, something he had been meaning to ask the dwarf king. He urged his own steed to quicken its pace to ride alongside Orik's steed, "King Orik, what can you tell me about Eragon and his dragon? Saphira, was her name?"

Orik nodded as he tugged on his beard, "Aye, Eragon and Saphira. They are the finest dragon and Rider Alagaësia has had in ages." He turned his head to look at Flarolth with a smile, "Eragon is a very strong willed lad. He has a strong heart as well, a heart worthy of being recognized as having been made by the hands of Helzvog. Saphira as well, and their bond with one another is perhaps the most prominent thing about them.

"They are unbreakable. Even if the future may look bleak, they never lose faith in their belief that they will succeed at whatever it is they set out to accomplish," Orik said with an air of happiness. "I'm glad to call Eragon mine adopted brother. He is truly a great friend…and brother."

Flarolth looked off into the distance ahead of him as he took in what Orik had said. He was surprised by how much the dwarf king praised Eragon and Saphira, for he had never known Orik to be one to praise anyone else so highly. Flarolth began to think that if Orik praised them so much, then they certainly deserved Flarolth's respect.

Flarolth began to ask another question when he suddenly felt a quick and sharp poke on the back of his head, just below the base of his skull. His right hand shot back to squash whatever he thought had bitten him, but there was nothing there. He turned his head upwards to see if any flies were buzzing around his head, but there were none to swat his hand at.

The odd sensation confused him, but he ignored it. Again, he opened his mouth to ask his question, but stopped when he felt the same odd sensation in the same spot once more. It was as if an invisible needle had pricked him. Flarolth turned in his saddle to look behind him, but the older male dwarf following behind him on their steed was removing the heavy coat he had been wearing.

_It couldn't have been him,_ Flarolth thought to himself. As he turned back around in his saddle to face forward, Athgar gazed up at him and made a soft noise to draw his attention. But Flarolth did not hear the little dragon as he scratched at the spot he had felt the strange sensation. _What is this feeling?_ He looked off to his left, in the direction he knew the Hadarac Desert to be. _Why do I suddenly feel the need to venture into the desert? There's nothing there, yet…something is telling me to go there._

Flarolth shook his head, and ignored the strange urge to turn his steed around and gallop off towards the desert. _No,_ he said to himself, _I need to keep going. No strange feeling is going to stop me from pursuing my dream!_

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A large caravan of Urgal's and Kull trudged through the thicket of the forest lining the edge of Lake Fläm. They carried with them their belongings; everything that could be salvaged from their settlement after the flooding. The water level of the lake had risen much higher than it had in almost a century, high enough for the water to spill over the natural dam that normally kept the lake from spilling into the hilly terrain below it.

As the Urgal's searched for a new location for their settlement, something large dove into the lake, causing the water to splash nearly a hundred feet into the air. As water droplets cascaded back down into the lake, the large head of a dragon emerged from the white water, along with its long neck. Urgal's and Kull turned their heads upon hearing the commotion the dragon had caused, as well as the joyous laughter that could be heard as well. Some of the Urgal's growled with disapproval as they continued marching forward.

Nar Garzhvog uttered something to the Urgal's he was leading, and they continued forward while he himself stopped and made his way down to the water's edge. A large Kull with one missing horn and pale skin that appeared to be covered in soot followed after him.

Upon reaching the water's edge, Nar Garzhvog did nothing but glare over at the Kull that had followed him as he came to stand by his leaders side. The Kull grunted in response to Garzhvog's glare and cupped his hands around his large mouth as he bellowed in the Urgal tongue in the direction of the dragon, "Criiztak!"

The pale blue dragon turned its head towards the shore of the lake, searching for whoever had shouted at him and saw the Kull waving its arms, beckoning it to come forward. The dragon blinked its lilac colored eyes once, but remained silent as it began paddling towards Garzhvog and the Kull. Drops of water clung to his pale blue scales, which still shined with a beautiful luster even in the dull light of the gloomy day. He shook his head forcefully as he shut his eyes tightly and let out a powerful sneeze, causing a spout of water vapor and smoke to erupt from his nostrils.

Then, a young female Urgal peered from behind the dragon's neck towards Garzhvog and the Kull. She wiped away the water that dripped down into her gray eyes, tossed back her long black and surprisingly straight hair over her shoulders. Much like the younger males of the Urgal's, the buds of horns poked out of her hair.

Aside from looking much like a human child, this young female Urgal was a stunning sight. Her cheek bones were set high and her nose was very elegant with a slight bulge on the bridge of her nose, which had a soft arch to it. Rather than having a square jaw like nearly all Urgal's and Ugralga, this young female had a rounded jaw and pointed chin. In essence, the young female Urgal appeared more human than the rest of her brethren.

The hide tunic she wore was soaked, causing it to cling to her frame. Surprisingly enough the young female Urgal had a slight stocky frame, her muscles clearly defined as they bulged ever so slightly beneath her pale skin. At her waist, the black pummel of a dagger stuck out from the water. A beautiful black gem, cut so that its surface was covered with many flat facets, sat in a golden crown at the very end of the pummel of the dagger.

When the pale blue dragon finally reached the edge of the shore, it stayed in the shallows, just out of swinging reach of Garzhvog and his Kull friend.

The Kull spoke first to the young female in their native language, "Raiga, what do you think you are doing?"

Raiga sneered up at the Kull and replied in the Urgal tongue, "Having fun father. Can I not enjoy a flight with Criiztak once in a while?" She did not bother dismounting from the crude saddle she sat in on the back of the dragon; her legs still in the water up to her thighs.

Raiga's father, the Kull, replied angrily, "Do you not understand? We have lost our village, not to mention the village elders to the flood! This is no time for games! And you!" Raiga's father pointed a very thick and gnarled finger at the pale blue dragon named Criiztak, "How many times must we tell you not to prey upon the herds of animals at the edges of the human villages? Because of you, the humans believe _we_ are responsible for the disappearance of their livestock!"

Criiztak only hissed in response.

Nar Garzhvog sighed deeply and spoke to the angry Kull, "Gadojeg, why are you the one who is angry when it is _I_ who first told you that we must send them off to Eragon and Firetongue? We would not have to deal with his preying upon the livestock of the humans on the other side of the lake then." He folded his arms in front of his chest.

Raiga's father growled deeply, "And how many times have I told you that they will _not_ go to wherever it is they would go to if we had sent them off? I am not going to put Raiga's life in danger! And I will most certainly not allow the first dragon to hatch for an Urgralgra to simply fly off with my daughter into the unknown!"

Nar Garzhvog turned towards Raiga's father, baring his teeth, "And why is that? She has proven on _numerous_ occasions that she is perfectly capable of fending for herself! That is why she was able to survive not just the flood, but the two days alone in the hills after she was swept away!"

Nar Garzhvog and Gadojeg began to argue very loudly with one another. Their voices and growls echoed out across the glass-like surface of the lake. What they were arguing about, however, meant nothing to Raiga. All she wanted was to leave her people, embark on an adventure with Criiztak and see the whole of the world. The only world she had ever known were the mountains and forests that she had been living in her entire life.

But having turned fifteen years of age the day she had been swept away by the floods, Raiga longed to leave her people even more. All she wanted to do was to get away from the constant arguing between her mother, father and Nar Garzhvog. Being the first Urgal Dragon Rider only intensified her urge to fly away from her people.

Since Criiztak had hatched for her a year earlier, Nar Garzhvog had made the point of sending her and Criiztak off to someone named Eragon. But Raiga's father would not hear a word Garzhvog would say for that entire year. It had gotten to the point where her father's stubbornness to keep her by his side infuriated her.

Just as Raiga was about to tell Criiztak to simply fly away from them and never look back, her left hand flew up and slapped the back of her neck. She thought something had bitten her, but when she pulled her hand away and looked at it, there was nothing there. It felt as if a mosquito had bitten her just below the base of her skull.

Raiga pulled her long straight hair over her neck so that nothing could bite her again, should it decide to do so again. But just as she put her hand at her side again, once more it flew up quickly and slapped her neck. However, since her hair had been covering her neck, Raiga knew nothing could have bitten her. With her hand still on the back of her head, Raiga twisted around in Criiztak's saddle and looked out across the calm surface of the lake.

As she scratched at the spot where the strange feeling of being bitten had happened one more time, Raiga's urge to fly away became nearly unbearable. It wasn't that the arguing had finally gotten to her, but because something was drawing her away from there. Something was telling her to head east, to begin a journey to the Hadarac. How she knew the name of where this urge was telling her to go, Raiga had no idea but she knew that she had to go there.

Raiga couldn't take it anymore and that's when she decided she would obey her urge to fly to the east. She turned back around in the saddle, and grabbed the closest of Criiztak's neck spikes. She spoke to him with her mind in her native language, as it was the only language he was familiar with, _We must leave this place. We need to go east. Something is pulling me that way._

Criiztak turned his head slightly to look back at her with his left eye as he shuffled his wings. His soft calming, soft-spoken voice washed over her mind, much like the babbling of a brook in the spring season, _What do you mean pulling you? I do not see anything or anyone tugging on your arms._

Raiga shook her head, _That's not what I meant. It's…a strange feeling that I just got. Now, get ready to leave._ Raiga could sense from Criiztak that he approved of her decision to finally leave the arguing Urgal and Kull. Like her, he also did not enjoy living with the constant arguments.

As Criiztak quickly unfurled his wings, Raiga called to her father, "Father!" The Kull, still fuming from his argument with Nar Garzhvog turned and set his angry glare upon Raiga. Raiga gave him a very stern look as she glared back at him, "I have always respected you for all you have taught me. But I no longer feel at home living among our people. Nor can I take the constant bickering between you two! I bid you farewell!"

Gadojeg's eyes widened with rage as he realized what Raiga was telling him. He bellowed and charged forward into the water, intending to stop Criiztak from taking off. Nar Garzhvog, most likely fearing the angry Kull would harm the dragon in his blind rage, rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the Kull's waist. But still, Gadojeg charged through the water at Criiztak.

But he was too late. By the time he was almost within reaching distance of Criiztak, the pale blue dragon had leaped up out of the water. Beating his wings three times, Criiztak easily cleared the tops of the trees that hugged the edge of the lake. Water showered down upon Nar Garzhvog and Gadojeg as it cascaded from his scales.

As he dipped his right wing down to turn, Gadojeg let out a howl that rolled across the lake. But it wasn't a howl of rage that Raiga heard; it was a howl of despair, for Raiga was Gadojeg's only child. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see the large form of her father grow smaller with each graceful flap of Criiztak's wings. She could see that he had ceased charging into the water and only looked on as the only dragon to hatch for an Urgal carried his daughter off into the open world.

Raiga reached her mind out to her father before the distance between them prevented her from contacting him, _I'm sorry father. But I must leave; it is what I was meant to do from the very beginning._ Then, she severed the mental connection and looked out ahead of her. As the wind ripped passed her ears, she thought she heard another bellow of despair, but she did not bother looking back this time.

_From this day forward we are free,_ Raiga said to Criiztak as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the wind against her face. She felt Criiztak's happiness about finally leaving the Urgal's to begin a life of adventure with his Rider, but she also felt his uncertainty about where they were going to go. She quickly reached up to move the strand of wet hair that had plastered to her face and then took a firm hold of Criiztak's neck spike again.

_We may be free now,_ he said, _but where will we go? What is it that pulls you to the east?_ He climbed higher and higher into the air with each flap of his wings.

She was about to answer him when her urge to travel east suddenly seemed to redirect itself. She looked to her left off to the north, where she could see the mountains that made up The Spine disappear off into the humid haze of the horizon. _No, we must go north. Turn north. There's something in the north this time._

_But what is it?_ Criiztak inquired again as he angled his body and dipped his left wing down to begin his graceful turn towards the north.

Her long black hair whipped behind her in the wind like writhing serpents, _I do not know. We will just have to go north to find out. We need to…we need to go to Oestaerya._

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By the time they had emerged from the tunnel, the sun was already beginning to make its journey down towards the horizon.

First, Roran emerged from the cave, then Arya, Elva, Jeod, Hölgeron and Angela. When they had all climbed down the ladder, everyone turned and expected to see Ŝtanin standing in the tunnel entrance, but he was not there. They wait several minutes before they finally heard the scratching of claws against stone.

"What's that noise?" Nasuada asked as she turned her attention up to the tunnel.

"You'll see in a moment," Angela answered as she pulled her handkerchief from her cloak once more and wiped the beads of sweat from her brow. "I didn't think we'd ever get out of that oven."

"Oh come now Angela," Jeod said as he glanced over to the herbalist, "it was not that bad. It was quite pleasant if you ask me."

"Says the man who wears light garments practically all the time," Angela scoffed.

Jeod was about to respond to her accusation when Solembum let out a loud hiss. Nasuada gasped in surprise upon seeing what had emerged from the tunnel and a group of workers nearby pointed and shouted. Some of the men, including Baldor, pulled concealed weapons out of their garments and rushed forward to protect Roran and the others.

But Roran stopped them with a hand, "Do not worry friends. He is with us; he's a friend. There's no need for weapons."

Baldor approached him from behind and whispered nervously into Roran's right ear, "Roran, what in god's name is that? And what do you mean _he_ is a friend?"

Fírnen turned his head and looked upon the Drëkøn as Roran replied to Baldor, "His name is Ŝtanin. He's a Drëkøn and when I say he's a friend, I mean that he's a friend." Roran glanced back at Baldor and he could see that the color in his face had begun to return upon hearing Roran's reassuring words.

Ŝtanin called down to everyone present, speaking in a calm, yet powerful voice, "Do not be afraid. I mean none of you any harm, nor do I intend to harm your families." With that, Ŝtanin hopped off the ledge of the tunnel and dropped down to the gravel below. He landed with a heavy thud, bending his left knee down to the ground and his right up while he placed the knuckles of his left fist on the ground. Everyone felt the ground tremble slightly from the impact of his landing as dust billowed out and up around him.

"That's…a Drëkøn?" Nasuada asked to no one in particular.

Roran could hear the slight tremble in her voice and spoke to her over his shoulder while his eyes still focused on the Drëkøn, "There's no reason to fear him, Nasuada. He's probably the most essential ally we'll ever have."

Solembum growled loudly, arched his back and stood his hair on end as Ŝtanin stood up; Angela hushed him.

Nasuada glanced towards Roran for a moment before looking back at the Drëkøn. "What does you mean 'most essential ally we'll ever have'?" she asked him in a hushed voice. But Roran did not respond; he had not seemed to hear her.

The Drëkøn was truly a remarkable sight. She had never before seen a more amazing sight. The absolutely stunning resemblance the Drëkøn had to a dragon simply left her in awe. His head was shaped similarly to that Fírnen's head, but the Drëkøn had a face that Nasuada thought was very similar to that of Glaedr. But unlike the gold dragon, Ŝtanin had large horns that sprouted from the top of his head, several inches behind his eye sockets and curved ever so softly upwards. Nasuada thought that his horns made him appear just as fierce as Thorn.

Solembum dropped down to the ground as Fírnen stood up and casually walked over to the very dragon-like man that stood before them. He stopped a few meters away from the Drëkøn and lowered his head until their eyes met. No one spoke a word, not even a whisper as the two stared silently at one another.

Ŝtanin lifted his right hand and gingerly placed his four-fingered palm on Fírnen's snout. Fírnen seemed to shudder upon feeling the touch of the Drëkøn. Then, the corners of Ŝtanin's mouth curled up into a warm smile and he and Fírnen closed their eyes. Simultaneously the two dragons hummed deeply, causing the air to vibrate.

"Aye," Ŝtanin said as he slowly opened his eyes, "it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Fírnen." Then he turned his gaze upon all of the humans and the elves present, "It is also good to know that my dragon brethren are beginning to flourish once more. Today is a day that will forever be remembered throughout history once more."

"Why's that?" Angela asked. Solembum hid behind her legs as he stared at the Drëkøn with wide eyes.

"Why you may ask?" Ŝtanin said as he approached the group, his graceful steps carrying him with purpose. "Today, not only shall the name of my people be known throughout the world once again, but it also marks the day when my people were born into this world. On this very day, three hundred thousand years ago, the first of the Drëkøn emerged from its egg among a cluster of dragon eggs. Seràhjön was the first Drëkøn this world laid its eyes upon. It was this day that was dubbed, Dríon Nävúŝiin…or in your language, the Draconian Arrival."

****

**Ä**

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**End of Chapter 3**

* * *

**Pronunciation of Names:**  
 **Alagaësia: al-uh-GAY-zee-uh**  
 **Athgar: AUTH-gar**  
 **Bedäi'tal: bed-AYE-tall**  
 **Blödhgarm: BLAWD-garm**  
 **Carvahall: CAR-vuh-hall**  
 **Criiztak: CREE-sh-tock(tock rhymes with lock)**  
 **Drëkøn: dreh-KEN**  
 **Eldäriän: eld-ARE-eon**  
 **Eragon: EHR-uh-gahn**  
 **Fírnen: FEER-nin**  
 **Flarolth: fla-roll-th**  
 **Galbatorix: gal-buh-TOR-icks**  
 **Hölgeron: HOLE-ger-on**  
 **Irethil: EAR-uh-thill**  
 **Kaeshta: KAY-shh-tuh**  
 **Nasuada: nah-soo-AH-dah**  
 **Oestaerya: ow-es-TAR-yah**  
 **Raiga: RIE-gah(rie rhymes with lie)**  
 **Saphira: suh-FEAR-uh**  
 **Seràhjön: sar-AH-gahn**  
 **Ŝtanin: STAN-in**  
 **Tøvrí: TEH-vree**  
 **Vrínjäø: VREEN-jay-eh**  
 **Zophia: so-FIE(pronounced exactly like Sophie)**

The language of the **Drëkøn:**  
 **Dríon Nävúŝiin: DRY-on NAH-voo-zeen - Draconian Arrival**  
 **Ękt øv jeët pfïrnet, Roran Stronghammer bäe Argetlam Arya. - No need for weapons, Roran Stronghammer and Argetlam Arya.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, I know I promised that I would upload a chapter every week beginning in May, but I...kind procrastinated...for too long. I'm sorry to all of you who have been eagerly waiting the next chapter to be uploaded here. Hopefully, I can get my head back in the game and get the other chapters edited and uploaded here within a reasonable amount of time. But I can't make any promises, as I'm PROBABLY most likely going to have a job in the very near future. But to all of you here who have stayed with this story thus far, thank you so much! I hope you all enjoy the read! And I certainly hope that you all enjoyed the introduction of Raiga and Criiztak. Raiga's character was a bit of a tough one to put together initially, as I wasn't exactly familiar with Urgal anatomy or their culture. But, nonetheless it was really fun creating her and Criiztak's characters. They will play a role in future chapters, I guarantee it.**


End file.
